Cold Fire
by Doctor Zosfmov
Summary: Legolas finds himself at the Halls of Mandos after ridding the world of another great evil. Will he be able to have his eternal rest or will something prevent him? Legolas/ Eldarion slash. Tis not the end yet!
1. An Alliance!

Cold Fire- by Huan the Wolfhound  
  
A/N: This is a slash. I repeat this is a slash. Legolas/ Eldarion with a small paragraph of Legolas/ unnamed person.  
  
If you do not like slashes then go away! Do not protest and slate my story because you do not like slashes. For I am deadly with the bow and arrow and I will hunt you down.  
  
Plot: As the biggest snowfall hits Middle-earth, an ancient evil raises its ugly head. It will take a warrior determined by fate to stop it. Legolas/ Eldarion  
  
Key: Italics- elvish  
  
~ 27 years after the defeat of Sauron, early Spring, Gondor, Minas Tirith~  
  
"An alliance!" the King cried raising his glass.  
  
"An alliance!" the ElvenKing chorused, his melodious voice echoing the man's sentiment.  
  
King Elessar's hand went to the pommel stone of Anduril. It was an action of habit nothing more. "Elves and Men once stood together in unison against the darker forces at bay. Then we were divided. But a new dawn has risen and it will rise on elves and men living together in harmony!"  
  
Both Kings knew it was nothing more than something for the crowds to talk about and feel safer. They both knew that elves and men would never 'live in harmony' their ways were too different and their cultures to alien. The alliance was a pact that if the elves were attacked, the men would defend, and visa versa.  
  
Nothing more.  
  
"The elves are glad to fight and die alongside men!" Thranduil cried in elvish to the elves gathered at the ceremony. They laughed and raised their glasses in agreement.  
  
"The elves are glad to fight and die alongside men," one elf murmured and rolled his eyes. He looked at the man opposite and sighed. "Elves are never glad to die. Least not alongside men."  
  
The man laughed and the elf looked at him in puzzlement.  
  
"And men are never glad to die alongside elves. Besides you should be supporting your father, prince," the man laughed in elvish.  
  
The elf stopped. "You know elvish, human?"  
  
"My mother is elvish, idiot," he added as an after thought in Westron.  
  
"P-prince Eldarion!" the elf cried. "I did not recognise you. The last time I saw you, you were still in swaddling clothes."  
  
The prince blushed slightly and sipped at his wine. "Thank you Legolas," he hissed when he saw amused smiles from the ministers on his side.  
  
Legolas leant back in his chair with a satisfied smirk. "That's okay, your highness. Such a chubby child, and such a terror. I remember you running around with nothing on, before stealing your father's cloak and wrapping that around your waist. Then you ran into the middle of court."  
  
Eldarion went red even more and the elves alongside Legolas laughed with the prince.  
  
"I would not be so hasty prince Legolas in embarrassing me, for I have heard some pretty tales about a certain drunk elf and my father!" Eldarion countered. "I remember in distinct detail about when you couldn't handle some alcohol and you started flirting with my father on the eve of his wedding before starting to ki"-  
  
Legolas stiffened and in a lightening quick action was leaning over the table and glaring at the man.  
  
"Legolas," his father addressed him. "You have something to say?"  
  
Legolas glared at Eldarion one final time before falling back into his seat and mumbling: "No."  
  
"Well than remain seated," Thranduil admonished.  
  
"Do not be so harsh on him," Elessar said with a friendly smile towards his uncomfortable friend. "Legolas has a quick temper and the boys were only jesting."  
  
"You think I do not know that?" Thranduil asked, tilting his head slightly towards the man. His blue eyes were frosty and cold. "He is my son, I think I know more about him than you: Elessar."  
  
Elessar sat back in his seat, quickly followed by the ElvenKing. "Thranduil, do not make a scene. This is meant to be a joyous occasion, do not let us squabble."  
  
Thranduil nodded but did not seem so happy. He did not remain jovial throughout the whole feast and sniffed disdainfully when a platter of grouse was placed in front of him. "I do not eat meat," he announced.  
  
"B-but my Lord," the poor servant protested feebly. "King Elessar said to serve this to you."  
  
"And you have, adequately. But I do not wish it. Give to my son. He seems to have spent so much time with that abominable dwarf that he now eats like one."  
  
King Elessar bit his lip at this obvious insult towards his son and restrained himself from saying something. The table went deathly quiet and Thranduil looked at them with a curl of his lip.  
  
"Carry on eating," he proclaimed. And the servant dutifully served Legolas with the grouse.  
  
Prince Eldarion watched the elf opposite him. Legolas' head was hung low and he seemed to be staring at the table with an odd fascination. He could see the elf's cheeks burning red.  
  
"Stop staring at me human. I would have thought that you least of all humans would be so fascinated by one of your mother's kindred," Legolas murmured without looking up.  
  
"I was merely concerned on your behalf," Eldarion said truthfully.  
  
Legolas pushed his chair away and started to stalk out of the hall. "Don't be!" he cried after him.  
  
Prince Eldarion dropped the fork bearing the meat, halfway to his mouth and watched the retreating figure of Legolas. "What?" he hissed when he saw the Mirkwood elves' angry stares.  
  
"Eldarion?" his father's voice boomed. "Everyone else please carry on. Eldarion could you come and speak to me in private."  
  
The man sighed and stomped up to his father. Elessar smiled gently at his son, reassuring him that he was not going to shout.  
  
"Please, could we have a minute away from prying ears?" Elessar asked. "Don't worry," he added when he saw Eldarion's not entirely convinced look. "I won't shout at you."  
  
The father and son walked past the table and the King stopped just before the door.  
  
"Eldarion, I'm not telling you off, but please don't do that again. Legolas doesn't like being felt sorry for, and I would not query his and Thranduil's relationship. It is very strange, but they are still very close. Just leave them be. Okay?"  
  
Eldarion nodded and couldn't help but feel guilty. "I'm sorry father."  
  
Elessar patted his son's shoulder with another smile and walked back to the table. "Are you returning?" he asked.  
  
"I will go and see mother," the prince replied. "I'll see if she wants anything."  
  
With that Eldarion left the hall in search of Arwen, who was currently in bed with a fever. Her newfound mortality left her vulnerable to bacteria and viruses. It would take some while before she built up sufficient immunity.  
  
~  
  
'Why did she have to ask for that book?' Eldarion growled mentally as he scrabbled around in the library for the book his mother wanted.  
  
Arwen had answered the door with a red nose and burning cheeks and when she had asked in such a pitiful voice: "Could you find the book about Dragons.... um the First Dragons?"  
  
Eldarion had instantly nodded and had run to the library.  
  
"Ah-hah!" he cried in triumph and dived underneath a table, narrowly snagging the long threads of the tablecloth on a buckle. Some child had hidden the book underneath the table and Eldarion was about to climb out when he heard the door slam shut and only the voices alerted him to someone's presence.  
  
'Oh no,' Eldarion thought. Should be move now? But then they would laugh at him for being crouched underneath a table. If he got away without being noticed. nonsense! He could tell by their light footsteps that they were elves. They would also have to be deaf to not hear him stomping on the wooden floor. Eldarion crouched into a little ball and hoped he was not noticed.  
  
"Why do you have to do this to me?" a voice cried. "Embarrass me and insult my friends?!"  
  
"I only insult your friends because they are not worthy of you, and I wish to remind you of that," a lower voice said calmly back. Eldarion swallowed a gasp when he recognised the voice: it was that of King Thranduil.  
  
"Who?"  
  
It must be Legolas he was talking to then.  
  
"That dwarf creature you brought into our borders!" Thranduil hissed.  
  
"Gimli is a better friend then I have ever met in Mirkwood," Legolas retorted. "He is trustworthy, reliable"-  
  
"Stubborn, hideous and a dwarf!" the King completed. "And then there's the man."  
  
"Elessar?" Legolas cried incredulously. "You know well that Elessar is equally my best friend!"  
  
"A man?" the words rolled of the elf's tongue like they were something filthy, not to be uttered.  
  
"You obviously count him high enough to make an alliance with him!" the prince said.  
  
"You are young and naïve Legolas," Thranduil said condescendingly and Eldarion clenched his fists angrily at the treatment the son was receiving. "The alliance works both ways: Elessar is protected and I am protected. Do you truly think that I would risk the lives of my soldiers? It is protection for me! My soldiers are leaving for Valinor, if we are attacked, Gondor may be to the only place to receive aid from. I am certifying this aid."  
  
Eldarion again had to bite down heavily on his lip to stop himself from crying out. Thranduil was a shrewd leader, but a liar and a traitor also. His heart started pounding heavily when he saw feet moving lightly towards him and Eldarion prayed that Thranduil would not be too harsh in his punishment.  
  
But Thranduil stopped and instead, leant against the table with a wearied sigh. "Legolas, son," he said in a kinder voice. "Come here."  
  
Legolas stepped forward with trepidation and into his father's open arms. "Legolas, I do this for you and for the elves of Mirkwood. I want to guarantee that every last elf that desires it, gets to sail for Valinor. Is that too much to ask?"  
  
"No father," Legolas said quietly and leant his head against his father's chest.  
  
Eldarion ground his teeth together as his chances of the prince defending Gondor and pleading for his father to remain true to his word, disappeared as briefly as a summer shower.  
  
"Did you hear that?" Thranduil suddenly hissed.  
  
Legolas nodded his head and ducked underneath the table. He gave a sharp intake of breath as he saw Eldarion smiling feebly at him. Then he straightened up and gave an equally feeble smile. "No father," Legolas said, though he noticed a slight tremor in his voice. "Nothing's there."  
  
"Fine," the King replied and kissed his son's cheek before walking back out of the library. "Do not be long Legolas," he called after him. "Dessert will be served soon."  
  
Eldarion waited until he heard the door shut before crawling out with a slight wince. He had been crouched double for nearly ten minutes and his straight stance (due to many years of being taught etiquette) was not used to being crouched over.  
  
"What are you doing eavesdropping on my father's conversation?" Legolas asked coldly, his back to the man.  
  
"I wasn't eavesdropping," Eldarion protested and pulled the book out, giving it a brush.  
  
"I suppose you normally hide under tables the minute elven lords enter the room then," the prince said sarcastically.  
  
"No"-  
  
"Then what were you doing?"  
  
"I was retrieving this book," the man said though he knew the excuse sounded pathetic.  
  
"Oh yes," Legolas said mockingly. "Don't you dare tell your father about what happened here!"  
  
"Why not? Oh yes- of course I don't mind when my father is betrayed and left vulnerable to our enemies!"  
  
"You must understand what my father says!" Legolas said turning around, but his eyes were sadder and his voice was quieter.  
  
"You don't agree with your father," Eldarion finally said after a minute of silence.  
  
"No!" Legolas protested. "I do! He is right!"  
  
"No he isn't," the prince urged, stepping closer to the elf. "And you know it," Eldarion said slowly, staring deep into the turmoil of the elf 's eye.  
  
Legolas quickly looked away, breaking the eye contact. "No, my father is right," he said sadly. His voice seemed uncertain. "He is always right."  
  
"Can he not be wrong? He is only an elf when all is said and done: he is not perfect. Only Eru is perfect."  
  
"No!" Legolas said sharply, his eyes were wild now. "Father is right! Men are untrustworthy, they break their promises. it is for Mirkwood's good!"  
  
"But. my father! He is the one you made the pact with. He is your best friend!" Eldarion affirmed. "You cannot say that your best friend is untrustworthy."  
  
"I am not!" the elf replied quickly. "I am saying that those who work for him, are."  
  
"I will go to him now then," Eldarion announced and went to the door but was stopped by a hand on his wrist.  
  
He turned around and met Legolas' frantic eyes. "No, please! My father will kill me if he finds out that I let slip!"  
  
"It was not your fault," the man said and tried to jerk away from the prince, but his grip was steely tight.  
  
"It is. Please!"  
  
Eldarion looked at Legolas' noble features twisted into a begging howl. His eyes were frenetic and nervous, his teeth were biting down on his lip and his face was pale.  
  
"I will not tell my father," Eldarion said softly. "But you should."  
  
With that he left he room, much puzzled and confused about the prince of Mirkwood.  
  
~  
  
The band struck up a lively waltz and Eldarion found his foot tapping along to the 3 beats in the bar.  
  
The hall was filled with colour that had not been seen since Arwen and Aragorn's wedding. Flimsy silken objects made by the elves' dainty hands, velvet banners bearing horses from Rohan and wondrous chandeliers made of silver and mithril from the dwarves of the Glittering Caves.  
  
He heard a small peal of laughter that burbled over the owner's lips like water along the pebbles of a stream. He watched as an elf reached up to touch a shield placed on the wall, with a reverent look on his face. "Ada!" he called. "This is Gimli's work, is it not fine indeed?  
  
Eldarion nodded though the question was not directed at him. He too had gazed at the fair shield that had been made for none less than Elessar Telecontar's arm. It was rimmed with hard blue steel from the Blue Mountains and rippled on it were runes of some language. They would deflect any blows that landed on the metal. In the middle was mithril coated iron that shone so brightly that it almost blinded the eyes in daylight. The design in the middle that had alerted Legolas' eye to it was that of an axe crossed over a tall tree with reaching boughs.  
  
Thranduil crossed the room slowly and looked at the shield blankly. "Tis the dwarf's," he said coldly.  
  
"Yes, but it is beautiful isn't it?" Legolas repeated, his blue eyes rapturous at the material beauty Gimli had created. He always boasted about his skill with the poker and anvil, and now Legolas finally got to judge it for himself.  
  
"See!" Thranduil said in a low voice. "The dwarf has entranced you with metals- where do you think the fuel to heat the coals came from?"  
  
The prince looked at him blankly.  
  
"Wood!" Thranduil hissed. "You count yourself in league with these miners and forest destroyers."  
  
"N-no Ada!" Legolas protested. "Gimli said that he used coals.. Like we do! Rotten trees.. Dead trees!"  
  
"But why are they dead?" the King asked. "Because your friend killed them with his cumbersome axe!"  
  
Thranduil spat at the shield and stalked back towards the corner where some Mirkwood elves were huddled, deep in conversation.  
  
Legolas blinked several times before watching his father walk away from him again, then with a grave look on his face, reached up his sleeve and polished the spit into the metal.  
  
"Leave that," Eldarion said, walking up to the elf. "There are servants to do those sort of things."  
  
Legolas spun around. "We don't have servants in Mirkwood. Every one is free to do as they like within the borders of the law. Slavery is a disgusting human trait, you like to feel superior somehow."  
  
"That is true," the man acknowledged. "But then if you do not feel this need to be superior, why are you prince and your father King? Democracy would be fairer."  
  
The cerulean eyes narrowed and stared at him so intently that Eldarion nearly had to look away. But he persisted and stared back levelly, his face impassive.  
  
Legolas finally broke the contact by blinking and it was as if a spell had been lifted. Eldarion slumped slightly and blinked rapidly, shaking his head and returned his gaze to the elf.  
  
"You have your mother's eyes," he said with a chuckle.  
  
It was true. Eldarion had received much of his genes from his father, but his lips were his mother's. They were soft, a pale pink like that of the setting sun, and were normally slightly parted so that a glimpse of his teeth could be seen. His eyes were also his mother's: pale blue and luminous, long coal black lashes framed them. But there was also some of his father in them. They were more of a slate shade in them, hardness and also a spark of humour and mischief.  
  
"Democracy would be fairer, but I fear my father likes the power he wields as much as you humans. It brings him more gems and jewels than a simple elf," Legolas said in answer to the former interchange.  
  
"I have heard of the ElvenKing's fondness for all things that shine," Eldarion said.  
  
"No doubt then you have heard many other bad and untrue things about my father and my kin," Legolas said with a sad sigh and looked back towards the shield. "Money grabbing, selfish, dangerous, uncultured"-  
  
"Nay!" Eldarion protested.  
  
"Yes, they are all bad. My kin are known as the more dangerous and more foolish of the elves. Easy to anger and swift to act, we have been given bad names by many of our foes." Legolas' face was calm as if he accepted the truth. "Many of these tales that have been told are true. But that is only because of the world we now live in. Ever since Greenwood changed to Mirkwood, we are nervous of newcomers in case they destroy even more of our beautiful forest like Sauron!"  
  
"I am young amongst my kin, but I did see what Greenwood was like before. It was beautiful. The tallest trees grew there, lush and plentiful, that was until they all shrivelled up into shadow."  
  
Eldarion nodded sympathetically. "Sauron is gone now, Mirkwood will return to its former state, and the elves will be happy and safe!"  
  
"The elves will never be happy, nor feel safe," Legolas said darkly. "Now is not the time for such gloom and despair filled talk. We must celebrate!" he added brightly. "Will you dance with me? Set an example to our fathers that men and elves can live together?"  
  
Eldarion was about to say that he did not want to set an example at all, he wanted to stop the union, but when he saw the hopeful look on the wood- elf's face, he could not.  
  
"I will," he said.  
  
Legolas smiled broadly and taking the man's hand, lead him out onto the floor. 


	2. Of stories and orcs

Disclaimer: Same as always. Don't own them.  
  
Chapter Two: Of stories and orcs  
  
His blond hair swirled around as Legolas stamped his foot down and clapped his hair in tradition with the Gondorian farming dance. His face was alight with happiness as he then linked arms with a pretty young Gondorian girl and they spun around before weaving their way through the other pairs.  
  
Legolas' cheeks were golden as he danced and clapped. Normally a fairly shy creature, Legolas took the greatest enjoyment in the finer arts.  
  
He excelled in music, dancing, singing, archery and fencing. And if you had approached him about most other things, he would be quiet and reserved, occasionally offering a comment, but when you got Legolas on his own and suggested something such as:  
  
"Those wargs, god they were hard to fight!"  
  
Then Legolas was confident, charming, witty and made great conversation.  
  
"Ai, even with an arrow in their ribs they still carried on running!" Legolas laughed. "And heavy enough to squash a dwarf."  
  
"I would guess it takes a lot to squash a dwarf!" the nobleman said with a beam.  
  
"Indeed it does."  
  
"And you would know that." A different voice joined the conversation and Legolas looked up at his father.  
  
Even amongst elves, Thranduil was still tall. Nearly seven foot, the King was willowy and slender, but beneath his might robes of his office, lurked muscle. His eyes were lighter than that of his son and they were cold as a bitter winter morning. The sun shone, but they were freezing to be held in.  
  
His hair was the colour of a winter sun. Pale yet still bright.  
  
"Milord," the Gondorian said respectfully and bowed his head.  
  
"Sir," Thranduil replied. "If you could excuse me and my son." The words were blunt enough to make the Gondorian leave the conversation behind with a brief nod and walk away.  
  
"Walk with me Legolas," the Silvan elf said, directing his son towards one corner.  
  
There was a balcony that jutted out of the main hall and over the courtyard that was surprisingly empty. It was normally filled with traders and merchants arguing over the prices of metals imported from the dwarven kingdoms.  
  
"I saw you dancing with that man," Thranduil said coldly.  
  
"Yes," Legolas said timidly. He greatly feared his father as much as he admired him. Thranduil was a terrifying leader, but a brilliant one at that.  
  
He was wise and had a nimble mind that grasped situations quickly. Maybe too quickly. Some called him foolhardy, but then they dismissed it because he was the son of Oropher and that wood-elves were known as reckless elves. Thranduil was a brilliant speechwriter, and had a voice that could be heard over the din of battle with the greatest of ease. His words could stir emotion into even the coldest heart and he had swayed many a mind.  
  
But the son of Oropher easily blamed people and because of that, he had a reputation of somewhat a tyrant. He slaughtered the guards of his own wife when they reported that she had been killed. Thranduil ignored the fact that the Queen had run off, ordering the guards not to follow her, but instead charged them with incompetence.  
  
They were beheaded the next day in full view of the Council and the rest of the Mirkwood elves.  
  
Part of his anger was due to the fact that he had such a close bond with his wife. He loved her so deeply and dearly that it nearly drove him insane when she was summonsed to the Halls of Mandos. All his love then went into his son who Thranduil wanted to give the best upbringing possible.  
  
Legolas was taught by only the most skilled of elves, was allowed to make friends with only the children of the highest members of the council and was only allowed to socialise with only the noblest of elven maidens.  
  
When Thranduil had seen that his son was not interested at all with even the most beautiful elf maiden that middle-earth had to offer (Arwen Undómiel, the Evenstar amongst the elves), he tried with even more vigour. He held balls regularly and invited all the richest families that the elves boasted.  
  
None captured the eye of Legolas though.  
  
"I want you to stay away from him," Thranduil said. "I do not want a repeat of what nearly happened last time..."  
  
Until a son of Rohan was passing through Mirkwood. The nephew of the King of the Golden Hall - Edoras- was returning from Arnor when he stopped by in the lands.  
  
The man was a handsome youth. Tanned skin from days travelling, golden curls and a devil-may-care lopsided grin that made Legolas fall head over heels in love with him.  
  
The man only stayed one week when he also became besotted with the elven prince.  
  
Their relationship was kept secret to Thranduil all that time until, while perching up on a tree kissing and fondling each other the King had wandered into the woods and had spotted them.  
  
The man fled immediately leaving behind a sorrowful and much chastened Legolas.  
  
Thranduil from then on took much care over his son. The lavish celebrations stopped until they were only the basic ones that were yearly celebrated. And the King hoped that he could sway his son's preference to a suitable maiden whom he could marry and raise an heir with.  
  
No such luck.  
  
Legolas became quiet and rarely spoke to anyone of the female persuasion. His relationship with Thranduil was remarkably undamaged. The two were still very close and Legolas looked upon the incident nowadays with a chuckle about his naivety in his youth.  
  
"Father!" Legolas protested, a slight blush rising to his cheeks. "We're just friends."  
  
"That's what you said about that Roherrim man," Thranduil said with a grimace.  
  
"Ada, I promise to you," Legolas said with a beseeching smile towards his elder. "I will remain nothing but a friend to the man. And he has a name you know: Eldarion. Please could you use it?"  
  
When the prince's deep blue eyes that reminded the King so much of his wife, were looking at him so imploringly, he could not resist it and smiled fondly. "I will try," he said.  
  
"Thank you Ada," Legolas said reverting back to the common tongue.  
  
Thranduil briefly hugged his son and stood back with a proud gaze. "Pack your bags Legolas, we leave in the morning."  
  
Thranduil strode off the balcony with a swirl of his long robes and was gone back into the sea of bodies and music.  
  
~  
  
Legolas was staring out at the sunset when he heard a soft voice in his ear. He had been so preoccupied with his thoughts, and marvelling at the natural beauty, that he had not heard the man approach.  
  
The elf spun around and gave a smile when he saw Eldarion looking at him oddly.  
  
Eldarion's mouth opened and closed several times before finally he resolved what to say. "I didn't know I was your friend," he said quietly, almost shyly.  
  
"Any friend of your father's is a friend of mine," Legolas said. His pale skin was touched golden by the sunlight and his eyes seemed to sparkle like sapphires.  
  
"Who was the man of the Roherrim you were talking about?" Eldarion asked with an impish smile.  
  
Legolas' cheeks felt hot and he turned away. But he knew he had not done so quick enough from Eldarion's amused laugh.  
  
"No one of any significance." As Legolas said this, he immediately regretted it and felt guilty.  
  
Eldarion watched as the prince's hand toyed at something around his pale neck.  
  
"What is that?" he asked.  
  
"My good luck charms." Legolas pulled something out from under his tunic.  
  
One a simple leather thong hung a tooth. It was large and curved, but the end looked blunt. It was surprisingly white for an animal tooth and a hole was gorged in it where the leather went through.  
  
"From the first warg I killed," Legolas revealed and rubbed it idly.  
  
Also hanging from that was a ring.  
  
"My mother's." Legolas slipped the thong off from around his head and untied it deftly with long, ivory fingers. He slid the ring off and held it in the palm of his hand before offering it to Eldarion.  
  
"Its beautiful," the man whispered as he gently fingered it. The ring was obviously that of a woman's, small and thin. It was made from a chunk of emerald that was skillfully cut into a ring shape and studded in the middle was a white precious stone that was the shape of a flower.  
  
"A snowdrop. She gave it to me before she died," the elf whispered and looked at the sunset with shining eyes. "She said it was handed down throughout her family for generations from father to daughter and daughter to son.... I have to continue this by giving it to my daughter."  
  
Eldarion patted his shoulder and stood next to the elf, still fingering the ring.  
  
"I would love to be a father with all my heart...." Legolas said turning to look at the man with eyes that was filled with tears. "But I do not think I will ever..."  
  
"Nonsense!" Eldarion protested. He studied the wood-elf's portrait in the golden light. How could some fair maiden refuse him? Legolas seemed so perfect... so pure and gentle in his thoughts. So gentlemanly in his actions and ways. He was quiet, but he opened up to people on common territory. "You will find some young elf with beauty to rival the fair Tinúviel's and you will be wed and you will have a beautiful child!" Eldarion cried confidently.  
  
Legolas' rosebud lips opened as if he desired to say something. But then he shut them again.  
  
"Where you going to say something?" Eldarion asked, knowing instinctively that only be friendly prodding would he find out what was on Legolas' mind.  
  
Legolas opened his lips again and turned back to the man and started to say something when....  
  
"Legolas! Thank the Valar!" Elessar the Elfstone panted as he ran onto the balcony. Shortly behind him was a crowd of nearly ten Gondorian noble's children. They were dressed smartly in velvet tunics for the boys and velvet dresses for the girls, but already they were messed up with mud and one small boy had some leaves in his hair. "Please will you help me?" the King begged.  
  
Legolas looked at his friend, clearly amused.  
  
"Please sir, will you tell us a story?" a girl whined as she tugged at the ex-ranger's cloak.  
  
Aragorn closed his eyes briefly before looking at Legolas beseechingly.  
  
"We know you know stories," another boy said, his chubby hands on his waist in a business like manner. Eldarion chuckled and crossed his arms.  
  
"Legolas, please help me," Estel hissed. "I can't tell stories... ask Eldarion!"  
  
The son nodded in agreement. "He couldn't if it was the only thing that would save the world."  
  
The father shot his son an annoyed look. "I value your opinion Eldarion," he replied. "But I also value my self-respect."  
  
"Okay," Legolas interrupted. "Come on children."  
  
He took the first two by the hand and led them back into the hall. They gazed up in childish wonder at the golden haired beauty leading them with such a patient hand.  
  
"Come on," he said softly when he noticed one had stopped and was just staring at him.  
  
The girl turned around and whispered to Eldarion: "My mother's told me about angels, the prettiest beings that look after you. Is he one?"  
  
Legolas blushed when Eldarion met his deep blue eyes and answered: "He must be."  
  
The elf quickly swung his head around, the gold strands whipping ito his face lightly and hiding his glowing cheeks before gesturing for the child to come and then walking them out into the gardens.  
  
King Elessar frowned at the dazed expression on his son's face. Prince Eldarion was looking in the direction that Legolas had left in, with misty eyes and a goofy smile.  
  
'Must be that age' he thought with a sigh and wandering back in to see how his wife was. 'I don't remember acting like that...'  
  
~  
  
The elves left Gondor the next day and the last glimpse Eldarion had of the fair prince was that of his golden hair streaming out like the silken pennants that the wood-elves carried.  
  
He was immistakable from his shining hair and pure white stead with silver mane. The horses hooves pounded in front of every one else. Legolas seemed to wish privacy from the rest of his kin.  
  
Eldarion sighed as the horse carried his master over a hill and out of sight.  
  
~  
  
Nikerym (captain) Kiran stiffled a most un-elf like yawn and fixed his eyes back onto the horizon.  
  
Mirkwood was eerily silent.  
  
The King and the other delegates for Greenwood had returned back two days ago. There had been a truimphant reception waiting for them. A messenger had been sent before the celebrations after the alliance and the remainder of the council had been overjoyed.  
  
They knew their King's plan that the alliance was purely for Mirkwood's defence, but still they were overjoyed that they could rest safe.  
  
Kiran was patrolling on the southern most reaches of Mirkwood and had been for nearly a week. Then he would be returning back to the baracks and training for a week before being sent somewhere else. He had the keenest eyes of all the wood-elves and was an invaluble guard.  
  
Mirkwood had been empty. Trekking down to his position, he had passed near Dol Guldhur, but he had encountered no fell beasts that normally lurked beneath the twisted boughs of the trees.  
  
All the other guards were equally tense. The silence was most unnatural and to them it was alike to the great silence before a storm. It was an omen: something was going to happen.  
  
On the horizon he saw a flock of birds hurridely rising into flight. They were cawing noisily at something.  
  
Kiran fumbled quickly at the whistle at his throat and raised it to his mouth before blowing it.  
  
Within seconds everyone in Mirkwood was alerted that something was heading this way.  
  
Within minutes Kiran was joined by another guard who was patrolling nearby. "What is it Nikerym?" he asked after bowing dutifully to his superior.  
  
"Something has stirred those birds into flight," he responded. Kiran's finger pointed at the still circling birds. "And I do not wish to wait to find out."  
  
He blew swiftly on the whistle three more times. Within seconds everyone was preparing themselves for a fight. Male elves were buckling on armour alongside the females. In Mirkwood everyone fought.  
  
"Only orcs cause birds such fright," Kiran said.  
  
"Or men," the other guard offered.  
  
"Nay. Why would men come to our borders? The Roherrim are scared by us and the Gondorrim should be safe in their homes."  
  
Then Kiran's prediction was proved correct when over the brink of the hill he saw the first of their attackers.  
  
Orcs.  
  
"Yrch!" he cried and blowed again on his whistle.  
  
There was the crashing of horsehooves through the undergrowth and the guards moved in time for standing where they were previously, was two mighty steads.  
  
King Thranduil and Prince Legolas sat on their white horses and scanned the horizon. "By the blood of my ancestors," Thranduil murmured.  
  
He recognised these orcs.  
  
Orcs, partly due to their elven heritage, can live many hundred years. This meant that in theory, the orcs that slayed Thranduil's wife, could be the same orcs that were now marching towards Mirkwood.  
  
And they were.  
  
Thranduil tossed back his head and let a mighty battle cry: "Gurth gothrimlye!" (Death to our foes)  
  
Then spurring his horse, he charged forward to meet the enemy.  
  
Legolas watched his father go forward with a sigh. He too recognised the orc, but he was less hasty because revenge had not overcome him. He waited until the rest of the calvary had caught up before charging forward. 


	3. The Death of a Queen

Thank you to Lady of Legolas very much: you've my first (and probably only) reviewer. Major thanks to you.  
  
~ Chapter Three: The Death of a Queen  
  
The orcs had not suspected such resistance. They had been watching Mirkwood for some weeks. They had seen the King and many other elves ride out from the palace and had decided to attack.  
  
But due to leadership problems (there had been a fight over who should hold the banner), the orcs had had to postpone it. They finally resolved the matter when by accident the banner had been thrown into the fire, along with the orcs squabbling over it. And had thus marched for Mirkwood.  
  
They had missed the fleet return of the elves though and were immensely shocked to see the King at the head of the army. And now they were fighting desperately for their lives for the elf wielding one wickedly curved scimitar was striking madly, his bright blue eyes merciless and mad with retribution.  
  
As Thranduil fought, swooping down with his scimitar from horseback, memories played through his head and he fought even harder, trying to break through to the ranks to where his wife's murderer stood.  
  
flashback  
  
Queen Niphredil took her son by the hand as they walked lazily through the woods.  
  
Niphredil was beautiful, even by elven standards. Her white, marble skin was flawless and her hair was blonde, as is usual amongst wood-elves, but it was so light that it did not really seem white. The blinding light white sheet of snow hung down over her slender body that was dressed in emerald green satin dress, had earned her the name Niphredil by her husband: Snowdrop.  
  
By her side the elf of nearly fifty years had a smile on his face as he looked ahead in the woods. "Naneth!" [mother] he cried.  
  
"Mani, Legolas?" [ What, Legolas?] Niphredil asked following Legolas' finger.  
  
He was pointing towards a small glade. In the middle of it was a sea of...  
  
"Niphredil!" Legolas laughed happily and started to pull his mother along.  
  
Niphredil let go of her son's hand as he ran into the glade and she turned back to shoot a glance at the guards that always followed them.  
  
She heard a faint call. "Yrch," [orc] she hissed to the guards who quickly started scanning the surroundings.  
  
There was another call and she checked to see whether Legolas had noticed it. Thankfully he hadn't and was skipping through the glade, his long blond hair loose, tumbling down onto his shoulders.  
  
"Soora ta," [follow it] she called to the guards who look doubtful as whether to go and leave the Queen. "Uuma dela," [don't worry] she added scornfully.  
  
The guards nodded and started to jog into the woods, following the noise.  
  
Niphredil rushed to Legolas and caught him in her arms.  
  
The noise grew louder and the Queen spun around. This time Legolas had heard the noise and he made a scared whimper, his blue eyes were wide and afeard.  
  
"Nurta!" [Hide!] Niphredil cried as she heard footsteps in the forest. And then they loomed into sight.  
  
Ugly weapons held aloft, they gibbered and shrieked in the black tongue before starting to run forward.  
  
"Nurta!" Niphredil repeated and started to push her son up a nearby tree. Legolas opened his mouth to scream for help but he found he couldn't. His throat was dried up and in terror he scrambled back in the tree, away from the range of the orcs as they surrounded his mother.  
  
~  
  
Thranduil crashed through the woods with sound that to a human would seem near silent, but to an elf was like an oliphaunt stomping through. He was desperate to find his wife when he heard the gibbering and ahead saw two guards running.  
  
"Tampa!" [stop!] Thranduil ordered. The guards turned and he gestured to follow him, he could see the orcs.  
  
They were in a glade surrounding something and laughing as they jabbed in.  
  
"Tua amin!" [help me] he heard a voice scream.  
  
"Niphredil!" Thranduil gasped, stopping momentarily before running forward, unsheathing his scimitar. He charged head on, ramming into the orcs and knocking them away from their prey.  
  
His wife lay sprawled on the ground; her emerald dress was torn and hidden by her arm was a rapidly spreading black stain.  
  
Thranduil looked briefly at her and seeing nothing wrong with his wife, followed the orcs as they started to scatter.  
  
"Soora sen!" [follow them] he ordered to the guards and they followed the orcs out of the glade.  
  
~  
  
Thranduil ran back, panting. His wife's attackers were slain.  
  
He ran back into the glade in time to see an orc stab a knife down.  
  
Three screams of agony rang through the woods now tainted with orc blood. Legolas screamed as he watched his mother killed.  
  
Thranduil screamed as he watched his wife killed.  
  
And Niphredil screamed as she watched herself being killed.  
  
The orc drew the blade out quickly and licked it with a black tongue and sneered at the prince in the tree before seeing the furious King running at him.  
  
The orc dodged the blade and scampered into the woods. Thranduil followed, blind to all else apart from his wife's murderer.  
  
~  
  
Legolas dropped out of the tree and ran quickly to his mother's side, cradling her head in his lap, he frantically brushed the white hair away from the pale forehead that was nearly of the same hue.  
  
"Legolas," his mother choked. Blood started to stain the skin around her mouth and Legolas felt his stomach churning. "Santa sina," [take this].  
  
He felt her hand press something into his. Her hand remained there for a minute, feebly resting against his before it went limp and fell to her side.  
  
He looked down in his hand to see the eternal snowdrop ring. It never shed its leaves nor did it die. The one after whom it was made was eternal, but she had died.  
  
Niphredil passed from the world and was accepted into the Halls of Mandos.  
  
Legolas lifted his head back and howled a cry to the sky, filled with pain and guilt and anger.  
  
~  
  
This was the only thing that would have stopped Thranduil from running. And it did.  
  
He turned direction though the action was the hardest he ever made. And ran back to Legolas.  
  
The King found his son lying next to his mother as he had so many times before when he woke in the night from some nightmare.  
  
Thranduil was sick when he realised that no one would except he would ever be able to comfort Legolas again from the nightmares that haunted his dreams.  
  
End flashback  
  
Legolas rode with even more urgency than the warriors behind him.  
  
He remembered the sight of his father's back as he attacked orcs, bitterly. It brought back the memory of his mother's death and Legolas murmured a few soft elvish words in prayer while touching the ring before loading his bow and firing it.  
  
There was nearly fifty orcs there. A normal sized raiding party. Thranduil was in the middle of the fray and seemed to be trying to head towards an orc standing on top of a rock shouting orders.  
  
He was the one who had killed his mother, Legolas thought and aimed his bow at the orc.  
  
Legolas' aim was disturbed though when Arod suddenly dipped. He had jumped off a rock and was sailing through the air. The arrow nearly missed the orc's head and he cackled loudly before notching up his own bow. It was crude and wicked with a black arrow trimmed with raven feathered fletching.  
  
Arod was still leaping. Flying through the air, his white legs outstretched and Legolas hugged the horse's mane in anticipation for the landing. For the elf wore no bridle or saddle.  
  
Finally the horse of Rohan landed on top of orcs who had failed to notice the stead.  
  
There was a swift crack as their spines were broken and Arod trampled on them as momentum carried him along further.  
  
He unsheathed his white knives and began cutting down.  
  
The loud horse cry alerted him to the fact that the rest of the guards were among them and then the singing of bows that the archers were here.  
  
The ill balance arrow in the mean time was flying through the air towards Legolas. Because of the bad weight of it, it was flying sluggishly and Legolas deftly caught it.  
  
He snapped it in two and flung it at the ground defiantly.  
  
The orc grinned maliciously, bearing yellow teeth. And then he looked up with bright green eyes filled with feral intelligence and saw the number of elves that were bearing down on him and he stopped grinning for one second.  
  
He barked something in orkish and the rest of the orcs turned and started to run.  
  
Every single one of them turned and ran. No stragglers were left behind. The only orcs that did not run were the dead ones.  
  
Legolas opened his mouth to tell his father to stop, but it was hopeless.  
  
Thranduil was swearing loudly in elvish at the orc's cowardice and was still following them. His eyes were lit up with battle rage and his scimitar gripped so tightly in his right hand that the knuckles had gone white.  
  
"Adar!" [father] Legolas called softly, though the sound was lost in the din of the orc's scuttling feet and the horses' pounding hooves.  
  
~ Five days later~  
  
"Sir!" a breathless voice cried.  
  
Aragorn swiftly stood up from his position sat next to his wife. Arwen smiled feebly at him.  
  
"Go on Estel," the Evenstar mumbled in a sleepy voice. "I'm fine."  
  
He kissed her forehead and exited the room.  
  
Outside stood a man dressed in the livery of the army. But on his arm was a badge showing that he was a scout. The scouts were the forerunners of the army. While the troops were marching on foot, the scouts went ahead on their swift horses, unburdened by supplies of heavy armour.  
  
In the relatively peaceful days since the War of the Ring, the scouts had been called on for routine checks along the borders.  
  
This one was splattered with mud from a hard day's riding. Aragorn sighed inwardly. He remembered an image of himself like that. Weatherworn, skin tanned from long days out under the sky and boots coated in drying mud.  
  
But he was shaken out of his reverie by the scout repeating his cry: "Sir!"  
  
"What?" he asked, fixing his grey eyes on the man.  
  
"Orcs have been spotted on the southern borders, just leaving the northen reaches of Ithilien."  
  
"Well?" Elessar said. Small parties of orcs were common along borders. Remnants of the battles, they roamed in small hoards. The only danger was that they were menaces to travellers and small villages without defences. A well-organised squad could easily take them out though.  
  
"Nigh on a hundred, and growing over night," the scout said his eyes lowered in dutiful respect.  
  
"What do you mean growing over night?" Estel cried, raising the scout's chin with his finger.  
  
The man's eyes met his and they were unblinking, brown eyes that were honest and frank.  
  
"I found the army on Wednesday evening. On Thursday morning there was nearly a score more of the creatures."  
  
"Where are they heading?" the King asked in a low voice. He did not wish his wife to hear the conversation. She was still ill and Elessar believed that worry would worsen her condition.  
  
"Straight for Minas Tirith," the scout said.  
  
"Summon my generals!" Elessar the Elfstone said to the man, who nodded and walked away.  
  
~  
  
"Get ready to push them back!" General Aera bellowed to the assembled Gondorrim.  
  
The men had been quickly called together and those ready, marched to the borders of Gondor.  
  
There they would meet the enemy.  
  
King Elessar was at the front, resplendent in ceremonial armour engraved with the tree of Gondor. It was not practical, but underneath he had the chain mail from his old days of travelling. Anduril was at his hip and Brego was whinnying softly as he transferred his weight from one hoof to the other, when he heard the first shriek.  
  
"Milord," Aera said. "They come."  
  
Elessar nodded grimly and put on his helm. It was plumed with bright red feathers of some exotic bird and the metal was cool as it rested against the bridge of his nose.  
  
"Brego," Elessar murmured into the ear of the big horse as he whinnied softly again.  
  
Then the orcs drew into sight.  
  
At his side Eldarion looked forward with keen eyes inherited from his mother's bloodline. "Nearly a hundred and fifty orcs in total," he reported. "No Uruk-hai or goblins. And no leader."  
  
"Rabble," Estel said confidently. "They'll be easy. Keep in rank!" he cried along.  
  
"Stay in your lines while charging!" Captain bellowed, his trained voice echoing over the plain.  
  
"They have archers!" Eldarion said.  
  
"Orc archers? They haven't been seen since the war of the ring," the King said and then gave a slight smirk. "It shall be a jolly party."  
  
The orcs stopped. A group of splodges to the human's eyes, Eldarion could make out their skin colour and even the emblem on their crude shields.  
  
"They bear shields with fang symbols on," Eldarion said to his father. "What could it mean?"  
  
"Its most probably the name of their little bunch," a veteran said from below on the ground. "They make up names for each squad. They'll be the Fangs or something like that."  
  
"What, like the white ha- They're firing! They're loading their bows!" Eldarion suddenly shouted, sitting bolt upright in the saddle.  
  
"Shields!" Aera commanded and immediately the foot soldiers bearing the cumbersome rectangle body shields ran forward.  
  
They made a small wall between the enemy and the soldiers.  
  
The arrows bounced off with a dull thud.  
  
Then there was silence and one man moved the shield to poke his head around and see what was happening. His body fell forward onto the ground and immediately started shaking in his death throes.  
  
"Orc arows are poisoned," Aera said, but he did not sound convinced. Indeed, some orc arrows were poisoned but....  
  
Maybe there was more to this 'rabble' than met the eye. "They can keep us penned in here for ages," Eldarion said, clearly frustrated. He took his helm off and ran his fingers through his black hair.  
  
"Put your helm back on!" Elessar snapped.  
  
His son scowled and put the helmet back on with a grumble.  
  
"We could retreat," the captain suggested.  
  
"No," Eldarion protested. "We came here to kill the orcs and to prevent them from attacking our lands and our people. I say we should charge forward. We'll easily defeat them. The odds are 2:1."  
  
Captain Aera nodded. "He is right. We are a proper army, although this is only a fraction of it, but we drill, follow commands, and have numerous cavalry. They will be crushed under our feet."  
  
Elessar nodded. "Then charge. After my call soldiers, charge...." he took a deep breath and filled his lungs with air.  
  
"Charge!"  
  
~  
  
Much appreciated if you could click on that little button..yeah that one and review me.  
  
Anna. 


	4. Avenging sword

Chapter Four: Avenging sword  
  
The soldiers had returned triumphant. All the orcs were slain and then loaded onto a pyre to be burnt. It was King Elessar's orders. "As much as I dislike orcs, I do not wish them polluting my soil," were his words.  
  
The men grumbled, but accepted the sense in his words.  
  
Eldarion was glowing after his first skirmish. "Five orcs!" he cried breathlessly, before remembering his station and quickly walking away. He had done well in the fight. Mainly due to the adrenalin that was rushing through his blood stream giving him reckless courage.  
  
When they were back in sight of the White City, they were confronted by something strange.  
  
They could see a band of orcs surrounding one fighter who was valiantly fighting, but seemed to be losing. The odds were against this elf.  
  
"Elendil!" Estel cried and raising his sword, galloped forward followed by the rest of his faithful soldiers.  
  
The golden haired warrior turned and for a brief moment, Aragorn saw a look of relief on his face, but that swiftly disappeared when he scowled in an expression that the man was so used to seeing on a different yet similar face.  
  
It was King Thranduil.  
  
"So nice of you to join me," he drawled over the sound of metal clashing and spun around to swiftly stab an orc through his heart.  
  
"Thank you," the King replied with a mock bow. Leaning down he dispatched another of the foul beasts. "Archers behind!" he called.  
  
The archers dismounted from the horses that the cavalry rode on. They had been perched behind for the journey. They stood behind the wall of shields and started firing.  
  
"Its the same fang!" Eldarion shouted over to his father as he took up his own bow and stood behind the soldiers.  
  
Elessar nodded briefly to his son and carried on hacking and cutting in his effective manner.  
  
The first arrows thrummed through the air, landing in their targets with a meaty thud. Ten fell down dead.  
  
"Death to the mortals!" an orc screeched in the common tongue.  
  
Thranduil gritted his teeth when he found his wife's murderer and started to wade through the fray towards him. "You'll pay, orc scum!" he bellowed, rage started to cloud his eyes and judgment.  
  
"Thranduil!" Eldarion suddenly screamed and with fingers that moved in a blur, reloaded his bow and fired at a spot just above the elf's head.  
  
The axe fell from the orc's dead hand and out of harm. Thranduil had been only milliseconds away from losing his life in his rashness. But he carried on stubbornly, not thanking the prince at all. He swirled the scimitar in his hands in a show of aggression and skill before lunging forward.  
  
"Gurth gothrim Tel'Quessir"[death to the foes of the Elves] a fair and melodious voice shouted in elvish.  
  
Eldarion quickly looked to the side and for a second he was blurred by another wave of arrows passing between him and the elf.  
  
Legolas sat on the tall white horse with grace, standing up in the stirrups (for the horse wore no bridle or saddle other than the strap around his stomach), and fired into the battle. On either side of him, twenty elves fired similarly.  
  
An orc went down, the elvish arrow pierced between his eyes, his face frozen in a look of shock.  
  
"Legolas!" he called, but found he was drowned out by his father's own happy shout of acknowledgment.  
  
The elf obviously heard the calls but turned his head slightly towards Eldarion and blinked his bright eyes before returning his gaze to the orcs and fired again.  
  
Eldarion shook his head and concentrated on shooting.  
  
~  
  
Thranduil hacked away again as the final orc fell from blocking the King's way to his wife's slayer. He swirled the blade around his head, noticing with grim satisfaction the shriek it made as it cut through the air.  
  
The orc snarled and took out a crude axe.  
  
The elf darted forward and was blocked by the shaft of the weapon. The orc leant in and sneered. "Stupid elf!" he snarled and taking his axe away swung back to chop forwards.  
  
But he swung through thin air. Thranduil had ducked to the side and was taking a similar swipe. The orc also moved, but he moved forward far quicker than Thranduil had expected and he was tackled to the ground.  
  
He lay winded for a minute before kicking the orc off him with a contemptuous spit in his opponent's direction.  
  
The orc bared his yellow teeth and lunged forward again. He missed again and lay sprawled into the ground, dazed and confused.  
  
"Caela ie'lle!" [have at thee] Thranduil said with a manic laugh and swiped down.  
  
A sharp cry of "Thranduil!" split the air and for a second all movement stopped as they watched the King of Gondor leap off his horse and in the same moment hurl the mighty sword of Anduril through the air like a dart.  
  
The cry had shocked Thranduil so much that he lost control of his sword and it buried itself in the ground next to the orc.  
  
The sword flew through the air like a mighty silver falcon of death and went straight through the heart of Thranduil's other attacker, for another orc had snuck behind the elf in the hope of getting favour from his boss and killing the elf.  
  
Such was the momentum with which the sword was thrown, it cut straight through the orc and carried on. It dropped slightly and stabbed into the killer of Niphredil as he tried to run.  
  
He swayed on his feet slightly before dropping to the ground with an almighty shriek. He lay there dead and unmoving.  
  
The rest of the battle was brief. The orcs lost their courage and were easily slain.  
  
Legolas dismounted warily and crossed to his father who was slumped on the ground sobbing bitterly in his hands he held Anduril. "Ada?" he asked, touching Thranduil's shoulder.  
  
Thranduil spun around, his golden hair whipping into the face of his son and he glared angrily upwards, not at Legolas but the man behind him.  
  
Elessar stood waiting for his sword to be returned.  
  
"You.... you don't know what you did!" Thranduil hissed and threw the mighty sword to the ground disdainfully. Then the elf rose and walked away from the rest of the party ignoring his son's cries.  
  
"What have I done?" the man asked his friend.  
  
Legolas looked up and the King was shocked to see them brimming with crystal tears. Never had Legolas wept in front of him. He kept his emotions under a strict mask.  
  
"You killed my mother's murderer. My father vowed to slay that beast, and you just did it for him." His words were spoken sadly and with regret. Legolas watched his father's fleeing back.  
  
"Mirkwood!" he cried and the elven horsemen surrounded him.  
  
"Arod!" he whistled and he leapt back onto the horse of Rohan.  
  
"Come. Back to Greenwood," Legolas said softly and began trotting back to his home country.  
  
"Legolas, will you not stay?" Eldarion asked running after the elf.  
  
He tilted his head back and smiled sadly. "I will. Look for me in ten days time. I need to comfort my father and grieve again. Ten days Eldarion!"  
  
Then he murmured some words to Arod and the group gained speed, quickly vanishing over the horizon as quickly as they had arrived.  
  
"Friends, one more task I beg of you," Elessar said with a crooked smile amid grumbles. "And I think you already know it."  
  
The men nodded and started to collect the bodies.  
  
flashback  
  
Legolas fidgeted while the tailor dressed him. He was dressed somberly, far to somberly than normal. He wondered why.  
  
The black silk fitted over his slender body with legs that at his current age seemed far to long and gangly. He was small for an elf, but that was because he was a late starter compared to the rest of his year's children. In reality he was just over the height of a medium sized woman, about five foot five.  
  
He was dressed in a black tunic with black leggings and black boots. His normal soft shoes had been hidden away so he couldn't change into them. Underneath that he had a soft silvery shirt, the sleeves of it billowed out over his marble hands. But they weren't long enough to hide the ring on his finger.  
  
"Oh my," he whispered quietly and felt his eyes become wet. The white stone twinkled up at him and he swallowed deeply.  
  
The tailor patted his shoulder comfortingly and left while his father's friend- Haldir- brushed his hair.  
  
"Now then elfling," Haldir said in gentle tones, as gentle as his brushstroke. The brush went smoothly through the fair hair. Legolas had lighter blond hair in those younger days. When he aged, it darkened to the golden glow that he was remembered by.  
  
"You must be good today," Haldir said and separated a small section of hair. He started plaiting it, his nimble fingers moving the strands deftly.  
  
"Will you do that for your father and me?" he asked.  
  
Legolas looked up with a small smile. Haldir was his hero. The small elfling had only just met the older elf one summer ago. He was attending the Faradome [summer solstice] and had entered into an archery competition. The Greenwood archers were known throughout the land as the most skilled among elves and the Lorien elf had come to challenge that title. He did so with flair and grace.  
  
Legolas had been introduced to the elf and had lowered his eyes shyly to the ground. "Ello Mr Haldir," he said bashfully.  
  
Haldir had laughed and lowered himself slightly so that he was on the same level as the elfling. "I have heard much about you, Prince Legolas," he said.  
  
Legolas blushed slightly. "I hope it was good," he said timidly.  
  
The Marchwarden chuckled and Legolas felt his father's reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Of course it is," Thranduil said with a fond smile.  
  
"I have heard that you show much promise with the bow," Haldir continued. "And your father tells me that soon I will be in danger for keeping my reign over the wood-elves for archery."  
  
Legolas laughed, a sweet tinkling sound and from that day on he had admired Haldir greatly as a generous and kind elf, as well as a beautifully deadly one.  
  
Haldir went onto the next plait.  
  
"Why am I dressed up like this?" Legolas asked and fiddled with the ring impatiently. He was still young and wished to go outside for clean air and to climb the trees. These garments would not aid him, but restrain his movements in case he tore the silk.  
  
"Legolas, do not be afraid," Haldir said stopping briefly to kneel in front of the elf and take his twitching hands. "But it is your mother's funeral."  
  
Legolas looked at the Lorien elf with large blue eyes. "Today?" he whispered.  
  
"Today."  
  
"Why did no one tell me before?!" Legolas squeaked.  
  
"Because they did not want you to fret," Haldir said in a soothing voice.  
  
"But I am now!" Legolas cried. His tore his hand away from Haldir's larger ones and wiped his eyes and then looked away embarrassed.  
  
"Its fine to cry elfling," Haldir said and gathered the elfling into his embrace.  
  
~  
  
They were gathered in the same glade that Niphredil had died in.  
  
Thranduil was sombre in a similar black outfit, lending even more colour to the golden crown on his head. But it looked strange, as standing beside him wasn't the Queen's matching one.  
  
The elves normally garb themselves in blinding white for funerals and matters of grief and mourning, but the King had ruled this out. He had said that due to his mood, he should dress in black, and therefore so should ever one else.  
  
The body of Niphredil was untouched by the decay of death and lay in splendour upon a marble bed. She was dressed in silver robes that flowed down her limp body and enhanced the whiteness of her skin and hair. On her fair hair rested the Queen's crown. A simple golden coronet that was studded with gems made into the shape of leaves.  
  
Legolas was by his father's side and made no attempt to hide or wipe away the tears that ran unashamedly down his pale cheeks.  
  
Thranduil was not crying though. He had found strangely that he could not cry. He had not at all since his wife's death.  
  
Legolas made a soft whimper as the first haunting notes of the elven melody drifted through the trees. A hand squeezed his own and he looked up into Haldir's warm eyes that were too filled with tears.  
  
Finding no comfort in his father, he fell into Haldir's embrace yet again and buried his head in the black tunic as he listened to the song.  
  
"Thranduil," Haldir whispered, trying to catch the King's attention. He was standing straight, his eyes closed slightly as he concentrated on the words.  
  
"You should not have to bear this," the Lorien elf decided and led Legolas back inside.  
  
end flashback  
  
Thranduil had ridden on Arod alongside Legolas on the way back to Mirkwood. He was silent and pensive.  
  
The minute they returned, he turned and walked into the forest.  
  
His son stabled Arod before searching for his father.  
  
He knew where to look.  
  
~  
  
Mirkwood had changed a lot since the days of Greenwood when it was one of the mightiest forests in the world.  
  
The Niphredil glade was the same.  
  
The boughs that once had swayed in consoling silence to the sound of soft weeping, now were shrivelled and searching.  
  
The snowdrops that carpeted the floor however, were remarkably still intact. No pestilence had touched them and they bloomed as if in they too knew of Niphredil's death and were trying to make up for her absence in this world.  
  
Niphredil's tomb remained. She still lay on the bed, untouched by age, decay and animals. Some barrier warded them off. It was an instinctive thing; even Legolas himself felt an overwhelming sense of gloom and despair as he entered the glade. So much so that his normally light spirit which could not be dampened even by the Paths of the Dead, was despondent.  
  
He padded forward softly on the leaves and stood next to his father.  
  
Thranduil had shed his crown and stood before his wife's dead body humbly, dressed only in simple clothes of dull woodland colours. The King that Legolas feared and respected was gone. In his place stood someone mourning and blaming himself.  
  
He turned to his son and his bottom lip quivered for he could see so much of Niphredil in his offspring. The same beautiful silken hair, although different in colour now, had been similar at his birth. His startlingly deep blue eyes held the same wisdom and compassion.  
  
Thranduil choked and held forward a shaking hand to cup his son's flawless cheek.  
  
"Niphredil," he murmured and felt salty tears on his skin. They were his own.  
  
"She will rest happy in Mandos now," Legolas said reaching up his own hand to cup his father's cheek.  
  
They stood there for a while. Unmoving, silent in thought. Legolas for once the stronger one, and Thranduil acknowledging his emotions, cried without a noise.  
  
~  
  
You know what would make my day?  
  
A little reviewing, no?  
  
Anna. 


	5. Skating down the Anduin

Chapter Five: Skating down the Anduin  
  
~ Seven days later~  
  
"You can't skate, silly!" a childish voice laughed mockingly. "You need ice skates!"  
  
Legolas adjusted his weight from his right foot to his left as he sped along. He was beginning to feel cramp in it after standing on it for nearly an hour.  
  
Around him his surroundings whizzed passed quickly, such was the speed he was going.  
  
His boots had attached to them a bar of metal that cut gently through the ice. For the night after Legolas had returned to Mirkwood, there had been a great snowstorm. Everywhere was iced with nature's more brutal creation.  
  
The great river Anduin was completley iced off, and so this was how the prince of Mirkwood chose to return to Gondor.  
  
He had gone east from the woods and had met the beginning of the Anduin and was currently following it down through Rohan.  
  
Ahead of him he could see two boys pushing a little girl over. Legolas clenched his fists annoyed; he detested bullying. "Yes I can!" the little girl protested and tried to stand up.  
  
But she fell back down with a thud.  
  
The boys laughed derisively and started to skate again on their cruder versions of Legolas' shoes. "Told you so!" one called out with a sneer.  
  
The girl sniffed and rubbed her eyes with a red hand. She was dressed only in the homespun clothes of the Rohirrim. They were normally fairly warm, but the horse lords were unused to such bitter weather. Their plains were normally sunny and cloudless.  
  
She stood up again and felt herself starting to slide when instead of falling down, she was moving forward. She gave a shrill shriek when she watched the ice below her moving rapidly. Then she looked up, but a curtain of gold blocked her vision.  
  
It tickled her nose and she giggled before slipping slightly in the elf's grasp and then she shrieked again.  
  
"Don't worry," Legolas said softly and flicked his hair back. His hands were held securely around her waist and she was held in front of him, his long legs powering along the ice.  
  
"Who are you?" the girl asked.  
  
"Legolas."  
  
"I'm Lina," the girl said with a wide beam and Legolas felt himself sigh at her wide-eyed innocence.  
  
They carried on gliding, Legolas silently meandering his way down the course of the river. Finally he stopped when he heard a loud shout.  
  
"Lina? Lina!" he heard a man shout angrily. The sound was coming from nearly a mile upriver, and the elf's keen hearing had perceived it through the thick blanket of snow that was now falling.  
  
"Where is that girl?"  
  
"Come Lina," Legolas nudged Lina softly and to his surprise, her head lolled forward onto her chest. She had fallen asleep.  
  
The prince looked down at the rosy-cheeked girl. She had soft blonde curls that were damp from the snow, a button nose and dark brown eyes. On her small wrists was one copper bracelet each. Legolas was surprised to feel a swelling of emotion in his breast. It was affection that he never thought he would feel towards a human- not since the man of the Rohirrim.  
  
Maybe it was something about them as a nation. No, he dismissed that with a shake of his head and a slight smile. This was a different fondness. More of a fatherly affection then that of affection between a man and woman, or indeed two men.  
  
Legolas circled round and started skating quicker back to the source of the sound.  
  
~  
  
"You will be the death of me!" the man hissed when he saw his daughter stumbling forward, wiping her bleary eyes. "You silly girl!"  
  
He raised his hand to strike her when out of the shadows behind a tree came a figure. Tall and slender with his head covered by a thick fur coat.  
  
"What have I told you about going downstream?" the father asked in a quieter tone when he felt the disapproving eyes on him. "Now go in. The stew might still be warm."  
  
Lina turned around and waved to Legolas with a smile and a silent whisper of thanks, and went into the small house.  
  
"She deserves more than beating," Legolas said in a low voice.  
  
"Well then!" the man laughed nastily. "Who are you to say how I should raise my child?"  
  
"Merely a concerned stranger," Legolas answered, not wishing to reveal who he was, as was the custom among the elves of Mirkwood. 'Say your name only when it is asked' his father always told him.  
  
"If you think you can do better, then go ahead!" the man snarled.  
  
"I would like to," the prince said sadly. "But the road I travel is not one for a child. It is too harsh."  
  
"Then bugger off!" the man of Rohan said impatiently. "My wife died during the raids on the Westfold nearly thirty years ago, I raised Lina on my own."  
  
Then the man turned and followed his daughter.  
  
Legolas stood and pondered that statement for a while. It was a curious thing for the man to say. Was it meant to conjure up feelings of sympathy for him? Nay, those kind of men would prefer a kick in the head than comforting words and empathetic gestures. It was nothing more than a statement.  
  
The wood-elf shrugged and glided back onto the ice and carried on his journey through the gathering dark, as the snow grew heavier and the winds colder.  
  
~ One day later~  
  
The day was drawing to an end.  
  
The sun was setting in the west, but it could not be seen by many, for still the snow fell. Great rain clouds obscured the sky and the normally white-tipped mountains where completely white.  
  
Through the gathering gloom came a voice. So soft that it could barely be heard over the shriek of the wind. It was a beautiful voice singing as the traveller skated down the Anduin.  
  
"Snow-white! Snow-white! O Lady clear! O Queen beyond the Western Seas! O Light to us that wander here Amid the world of woven trees!  
  
Glithoniel! O Elbereth! Clear are thy eyes and bright thy breath! Snow-white! Snow-white! We sing to thee In a far land beyond the Sea.  
  
O stars that in the Sunless Year Within shining hand by her were sown, In windy fields now bright and clear We see your silver blossom blown!  
  
O Elbereth! Glithoniel! We still remember, we who dwell In this land far land beneath the trees, Thy starlight on the Western Seas."  
  
He neared the gates of Minas Tirith and stood waiting for them to open.  
  
Legolas had seen the scurrying movements of the men atop the walls from a couple of miles away, and knew that they expected his arrival.  
  
"It has been many years since you last sung that!" Estel said fondly as he sat on his horse inside the gates.  
  
"Indeed, it was in Ithilien," Legolas replied. He had lived many years, but he could still remember the exact details of each day.  
  
"I'm glad you returned," the King said and dismounted from his horse to hug his friend. "Eldarion has been counting down the days. What have you done to him?"  
  
Elessar stood back and looked at Legolas with a puzzled smile. "Come, I expect answers when we get inside."  
  
The King had been expecting an answer from the wood-elf as to why his son was acting so peculiarly. He was up on the walls all day searching the horizon from any sign of the prince and was always asking every one else. But when he saw Legolas' blank look, he left it.  
  
They walked inside the gates and mounting Elessar's horse, they rode double up to the palace before entering.  
  
Legolas still had his fur coat drawn around him when Eldarion ran around the corner. This was the sight that the young man saw:  
  
Legolas, his willowy frame covered in black fur that accentuated his normally pale skin, was glowing after days of exercise. His skin was golden while his cheeks were tinged with red blooms of colour. His eyes were bright and roved over Eldarion's body favouably and his mouth twitched into a smile.  
  
"I kept my promise," he said quietly.  
  
"Legolas," the man acknowledged, somewhat shyly. He put his hands in his pockets and twiddled around in them uncomfortably. Eldarion was cursing himself while he did this. Why was he so nervous? The normally light and friendly man was suddenly quiet and twitchy.  
  
Legolas' hands suddenly went to his nose and a mighty "achoo!" echoed through the hallway.  
  
"Sorry," he mumbled in a throaty voice.  
  
There was silence before simultaneously, the King and the prince started laughing while all the time Legolas stood there rubbing his nose, and wondering what was so funny.  
  
"I thought-" Eldarion stopped laughing and took a deep breath. "That elves didn't catch colds."  
  
"They don't," the elf replied with a glare. "As a rule. I guess a couple of days out in the snow all the time makes an exception." He said that pointedly towards Aragorn who smiled.  
  
"Sorry friend," he apologised and they continued walking. "My study ought to still be warm." He led Legolas towards the study and then let the elf slump into a leather arm chair.  
  
The fire was blazing merrily in the hearth and there was the occasional crackling and pop. The room was a very cosy one. In the colder wing of the palace, it relied on the well heat-insulating wood panels and fires to keep it warm. There was paintings and wall hangings hung every where and when there was wall space, a bookshelf or two.  
  
Opposite to the door was the table at which Elessar worked and next to it the chair.  
  
Legolas rested his head back against the chair with a weary groan. Elves can travel long distances without being very tired, but he had travelled non-stop through appalling conditions.  
  
"Take his cloak, Eldarion," the King said and taking two glasses from a cabinet promptly filled them with some liquid. "This ought to warm you up Legolas."  
  
With sweaty and fumbling hands, the man undid the broach at the base of the elf's, elegant white neck. Then he pulled the heavy fur out of behind Legolas and hung it on a coatstand that was propped up handily in a corner.  
  
Legolas gave another sniff and another glare at Aragorn, as if blaming him for his cold.  
  
Elessar walked over and handed one glass to the prince who sniffed it suspicously and held it in his numb hands.  
  
"Eldarion, could you entertain the elf while I see to Faramir?" Elessar asked. The ruler of Ithilien had arrived earlier that morning to start the talks about the situation over the marauding orcs. Eomer of Rohan was also due that day. It was a happy coincidence then, that the prince of Mirkwood would also be able to share his views and opinions. That was if Legolas could stop sniffing for one minute, the King thought with a slight grin and without waiting for an answer strode out the room.  
  
"Thank you father," Eldarion said dryly. "Of course I will play the loyal host while you have all the fun."  
  
Legolas chuckled before sneezing again and Eldarion only just managed to remove the glass from his frozen grip otherwise it would probably have ended up on the floor with the impact that his head was thrown forward.  
  
"Thanks," he mumbled again. "What is that stuff?" Legolas asked, gesturing towards the liquid.  
  
"I think," Eldarion said, taking the glass and sniffing it deeply. "It is brandy.... This is father's best stuff." He took a sip and handed Legolas' back. Eldarion shook his head and made a strange hissing noise. "That's certainly it."  
  
Legolas made the tiniest of tilting actions and emptied a minute proportion into his mouth. "Mn," Legolas said appreciatvely. The elves of Mirkwood were partial to a good brandy or something alcoholic, and were almost always the victors in drinking games, for they could stomach vast quantities of the spirits before feeling drastic side effects.  
  
Eldarion downed the whole glass in one gulp and found his confidence returning.  
  
"More?" he asked with a crooked smile.  
  
Legolas nodded and held his glass forward.  
  
~  
  
Partially by the large amounts of alcohol that Eldarion had swallowed, and partially due to Legolas' encouragment, the man was slumped on the elf's lap.  
  
"My father has told me some very d-" Eldarion hiccuped and giggled. "Dirrty thinggs about you, Legless," he added with a loud cackle.  
  
"Really?" Legolas asked. Elves were fairly imune to the light alcohol that men make, but this was no ordinary brandy. It was a dwarven make, strong and heady. It had the potency to knock even a seasoned drinker out after a full bottle. They had shared one.  
  
Legolas was also fairly new to drinking and was slightly, shall we say: sozzled. His words weren't as slurred as Eldarion's, but his personality was certainly different.  
  
"Legless," the elf giggled when he realised the meaning of the nick name. "S'funny."  
  
"Annd I wondered whether they were trrrue!" Eldarion finished, tapping Legolas' nose.  
  
"Well what were they?" the wood-elf asked, he himself wasn't sure.  
  
"Come here and I'll whisper them to you," the man said boldly, the liquour had made him act very brazenly.  
  
Legolas leant forward and felt his cheeks burn when the prince whispered them in his ear. "Oh, those ones," he realised.  
  
Eldarion sat back with a smug smile. "Three timmes I've seeen you blush- you blush like a maiden!"  
  
The young man was fairly irrisponsible it must be said towards young maidens. It wasn't suprising. He was handsome and charismatic, they were simply lured towards him. Eldarion was a charmer, and so he had seen plenty of maidens blushing at him.  
  
Legolas smiled bashfully, feeling some inhibitions returning to him as Eldarion's eyes looked down at him with an approving smile. This was the first time he had been attracted to a man though.  
  
The elf reached forward as if mesmirized and stroked his fingers through the man's dark hair and then found a slightly pointed end of an ear. Eldarion had some elf-blood in him.  
  
The young prince adjusted where he was sitting so that now on the large sofa, he was straddling Legolas' legs, and then he lowered his lips to kiss the wood-elf's own.  
  
The kiss was slightly sloppy because of the drink they had both consumed but they both relished it, and were glowing happily when they pulled away.  
  
"Mnn Eldarion," Legolas drawled drunk in his appearearance as a thirsy man drinks water. Long, satisfying gulps and then a contented sigh. "We shouldn't be doing this," he said, but contradicted himself as his arms went up to curl around Eldarion's waist and pull him in lower.  
  
"Why ever not?" Eldarion asked, in his bleary mind he thought that the idea was preposterous. Why shouldn't they be doing it? He wasn't about to stop 'this' when he had a beautiful elf seated in front of him, and him on top of the beautiful elf in question in a comprimising position.  
  
"Because any moment now, someone could walk past," Legolas said rationally, though he too was thinking hard for a reason to put off 'this' for a minute.  
  
"Then let them see," the man said stubbornly and his fingers started to slip under Legolas' tunic playfully. "I don't care."  
  
"Well I do for" Legolas was cut off as he let out a groan. "Us," he finished.  
  
Eldarion grinned wickedly and made his way up the elf's chest. He could feel the muscles under his fingers.  
  
"I don't want you father to.... aah..... see us."  
  
Legolas tried to concentrate on what he was saying and was about to just relax into Eldarion's talented touch when he heard foosteps and then a voice.  
  
Eldarion's fingers made light work of Legolas' tunic and soon the wood-elf could feel the leather of the seat on his bare skin. The prince had thrown the garment carelessly behind the back of the chair.  
  
"Eldarion!" Legolas cried as the prince's fingers lowered. "Get off!"  
  
With a final shove, he pushed the man away and sprang to the door lightly, clad only in his leggings and soft shoes.  
  
"Come into my office Faramir," he heard King Elessar say. "I've got some fine brandy that we could try."  
  
"Certainly," Faramir accepted.  
  
"Eldarion, hide!" Legolas hissed and pulling the man out of the seat in which he had collapsed, he pulled him behind the settee.  
  
The seat was fairly long. It could seat three people at the most and was just long enough for the man and the elf to lie behind without their feet sticking out.  
  
Legolas was on his back with Eldarion on top of him.  
  
"Where's my brandy?" Elessar asked, coming into the room. "It seems that someone beat us to it."  
  
From behind the couch Eldarion giggled and was about to murmur something when Legolas silenced him with his lips. Instead a soft noise of contentment came out of the man's lips and then the soft noise of snoring.  
  
Legolas, whose state of drunkness was quickly wearing off, sighed and waited.  
  
~  
  
Thank you for bearing with me. Now if you please, could you review?  
  
Thank you to the Lady of Legolas for your undying support. This chapter is for yoooouuuu! 


	6. Headaches and Daydreaming

Thank you Lady of Legolas soooo much! If it wasn't for you I wouldn't be publishing this chapter. Anna.  
Chapter Six: Headaches and daydreaming  
  
Arwen slid out of her bed and padded across the floor until she reached the doors with large windows set into the wood. There she flung them open and breathed in sharply as a bitter wind swirled around.  
  
It would do her cold no good; she knew that perfectly well. But she needed to regain some touch and closeness to nature. As an elf, even though she was no longer immortal, she needed nature more than medicine to heal her.  
  
The snow in the wind melted in her thick, luxurious hair and the ends tickled her cheek in turn as it swirled around her head.  
  
In the bracing wind, taking the full brunt of its strength, she felt her head becoming less muddled and she stepped out onto the balcony, one of the many, and looked across the landscape.  
  
The snow coated landscape looked dreary and dead. The leaves were still on the trees, hidden by their icy encasement, they were green, but to an elf's eyes, already Arwen could see them loosing their glow. The elves' departure to the Undying Lands was another blow to the Evenstar. She had been prepared to face mortality and embrace it, but she had always counted on the support of her kindred. Elrond, Galadriel, all the elves that had played prominent parts in her life had disappeared.  
  
They had mounted a ship and had fled.  
  
She was alone.  
  
Elessar was always with her, but even he could not understand the pain she felt. The loneliness of mortality was cruel indeed.  
  
~  
  
Eldarion sat up and immediately regretted the action when he felt drums pounding in his head.  
  
'You shouldn't have drunk so much,' a nagging voice said in his head. It sounded remarkably like Legolas'. 'Mortals cannot handle their drink. Feeble' it added with a silent laugh.  
  
He opened his eyes and was shocked to see the form of the elf sitting on the bed in front of him.  
  
"Good morning," Legolas said without a smile.  
  
"G-good morning," Eldarion replied. The prince of Mirkwood was in his chambers? Why was he in his- Oh no.  
  
The man groaned loudly and put his sore head in his hands. "I didn't?" he said softly.  
  
He felt a hand on his shoulder that squeezed the muscles and Eldarion found himself leaning into the touch.  
  
"You didn't," Legolas whispered.  
  
"Thank god," the man said before blushing slightly and fumbling on his words. "I-I mean... not that...."  
  
Seeing the amused smirk on the wood-elf's face, he buried his head in the satin covers and lay there for a while.  
  
"Eldarion," Legolas said softly. "What happened last night..." He took a deep breath and tried to remember what he had been telling himself all last night. Mentally screaming at himself for what he had done, encouraged and enjoyed.  
  
"It was a mistake. Lovely but a mistake."  
  
He did not wait for an answer but stood up and left the room without a backward glance.  
  
"Legolas," Eldarion said slowly, lifting his head up equally slowly. Somewhere deep inside him, he knew what was going to happen, what had happened. But he had ignored it. He should have credited Legolas with more intelligence than to think that a relationship between men- a man and an elf- would ever work out.  
  
Eldarion slowly stood up and looked in the mirror.  
  
His hair was disheveled and his eyes were still bleary from sleep. His skin was too pale in comparison to the misty, but still hard grey eyes. His stance was that of his office. Proud and tall, a true son of the last King of the Numenoreans.  
  
He was hiding from himself by playing along with this game, hoping in vain for something from Legolas.  
  
He was twenty-seven. Considered old enough to be a man amongst his people. Looked up to, revered to, he should stop playing the wistful daydreamer and play instead the Prince.  
  
~  
  
Inside everyone there is a daydreamer. In some they are more prominent however. Legolas was one of those people.  
  
He was dreaming of a time, a day, a world where titles would not matter.  
  
He and Eldarion would be able to go where they liked, do what they liked, and loved when they liked.  
  
It was a pleasant dream, but a stupid one. It would never happen and the prince knew it well enough.  
  
"Why did you not aid us?" he heard the King of the Mark ask sharply.  
  
"Legolas?"  
  
Maybe in that world, his father would not mind. He would be pleased and proud of his son who had done and accomplished so much in life. Legolas should have been praised. He had done so much.  
  
He was part of the legendary Fellowship of the Ring. He had slain hundreds of orcs, he had many times protected King Elessar. But that was soon forgotten.  
  
"Legolas!"  
  
Legolas would have the world filled with trees, plants. These stone cities and countries would be taken apart. Ruined by the very thing that made it: nature.  
  
"Legolas Greenleaf!"  
  
The elf sighed and tilted his head to look out the window. How much he wished to be in that imaginary world. Running under the boughs of the tall trees, hand in hand with his fair Prince Eldarion.  
  
A body blocked his view and reluctantly Legolas looked up.  
  
"Are you with us now?" an angry voice asked.  
  
"Hm?" the wood-elf replied and stared into Eomer's angry blue eyes.  
  
How much he resembled the golden-skinned youth that had been Legolas' first love. The men of the Roherrim were beautiful; they were not given enough credit for it. Their strong limbs, blue eyes, and shining blonde hair.  
  
"I asked you, prince why did you not aid us?"  
  
"Eomer, friend," Faramir said with a hand gesture towards his seat. "Please sit."  
  
Legolas looked up into the angry blue eyes and wondered why the man was so angry. "What have I done?" he asked Elessar in elvish, hoping that the other men present would not understand him.  
  
"You were ignoring him," Elessar replied. "Where you off daydreaming again?" The King chuckled. "You must learn to control that habit of yours."  
  
"My apologises milord," Legolas said sincerely. "My mind was occupied."  
  
"Occupied indeed," Eomer muttered and took a sip from his chalice.  
  
The table was a circular thing. Seated around it was two Kings, two princes and a Steward.  
  
King Eomer of the Mark sat next to Elessar the Elfstone and next to Elessar sat his dutiful Steward: Faramir son of the late Denethor. Aside from Legolas, the other prince was Imrahil, ruler of Belfalas, a small coastal country with sweeping cliffs and majestic seas that crashed into the small bays and coasts.  
  
It was a beautifully rugged country. Untamed by the hammers of men, its main city was that of Dol Amroth.  
  
They were all here to sort out the situation of the orcs.  
  
"I am sorry that we could not aid you in defending the borders of Rohan but we have trouble currently, lurking closer to home," Legolas said softly.  
  
There were mumbles of agreement from all around the table.  
  
"It is fine for Gondor and Mirwood!" Eomer cried, banging his fist onto the table heavily and making the glasses tremor. "You have men, healthy, able men that are willing to fight. What do I have? I have men that are scared of fighting in case they never see their wives, their children again. We are still recovering from the attacks during the War of the Ring, it will take decades before Rohan is completely replenished with fighters. What should we do? Sit back and let the orcs burn our villages and loot our homes?  
  
Already I have had word that one village along the Anduin has been attacked. The children there are going to be orphans."  
  
Immeadiatley Legolas' mind went to Lina, the small girl he had found. Her father would have fought for her, he tried to console himself, but he could still remember the burning images of towns and of the thatched buildings from the first attacks. He did not wish it to happen to her.  
  
"You are not alone Eomer," Prince Imrahil said coolly, his grey eyes rational. "I have barely enough warriors to keep my borders protected. Many of us fell in the service of Gondor."  
  
It was not meant as a direct jab at King Elessar, but the man winced all the same. It seemed his fault that the armies were depleted. But he knew that it was not.  
  
"Well what about the other elves? They used to be the mightiest of warriors, know where are they? Hiding in their woods? The Galadrim aided us at Helms Deep, why cannot they again?" Eomer's questions were directed towards Legolas though the prince was not of that type of elf.  
  
"Do not take it out on Legolas," Imrahil said kindly, with a swift glance towards the elf, which nodded, the action was barely perceivable.  
  
"The elves are gradually diminishing each day. We see regularly ships sailing down the Anduin from Lorien and other places that the elves lived. I have also received news from Cirdan of the Havens that the same thing is happening there. If it is like anywhere else inhabited by the fairer folk, soon they will all be gone. They are hanging on for something. That something will soon be gone though. I do not know what it is."  
  
"Neither do we," Legolas said quietly.  
  
"A touching story," Eomer said sarcastically. "But we must return to the point of this meeting. What are we going to do? Orcs will stop for no one."  
  
"The only way to prevent these attacks is death," Faramir said. "We'll just have to defend our borders as best we can."  
  
"That is not good enough!" The King of Mark was an awesome sight to behold. His eyes were cold and urgent. His love for his people was evident. "I do not wish to fail them like my uncle...." he added.  
  
"Your uncle did not fail them," Elessar said. "He was a noble man, he was just blinded by Saruman's powers. Many, Saruman had under his spell, including Gandalf for a short while. Tis nothing to be ashamed of."  
  
"Yet I still am," Eomer protested and slumped back in the chair with the sigh of one weary of fighting and talking. The King of Rohan had aged mightily in the past twenty odd years. At the corners of his eyes were lines and his high forehead was marred with the lines from the frowns that so often rested there.  
  
Everyone around the table had aged, Legolas thought glumly. Everyone except him and perhaps Imrahil. The man had some elven blood in him and it kept him looking young, but too one day he would die and leave Legolas on his own, alone and without friends. All that he knew and love would leave him behind. That was the punishment he received for the love and friendship he gave mortals, their death.  
  
Even the mighty King Elessar Telecontar was aging. The blood of Elendil and the ancient King of Men, could not prevent the inevitable. Both he and Arwen would be left behind to grieve. But even she would soon part from the world.  
  
Undómiel's mortality meant that she would be able to leave Middle-earth's shores as well though.  
  
Only Legolas of the Elves would remain. Dwelling under the trees until the grief of their passing was too unbearable, then he would answer the desperate call of the Sea in his heart.  
  
"How many fighters do we have?" Legolas asked, looking up.  
  
"In total? I would say that Gondor could supply nigh on 20,000 strong, able- bodied fighters. Ithilien?" Elessar said turning to Imrahil.  
  
"My country is small but my men are honourable and would seek valour. Four thousand," Imrahil said proudly.  
  
"Ithilien also would offer her small troops, along with the Rangers of Ithlien, five thousand we boast," Faramir supplemented.  
  
"Mirkwood's archers and swordsmen are dwindling, most of the elves are leaving, but we should be able to round up a party of a thousand at the least," Legolas said. "What does Rohan say?"  
  
All eyes turned on Eomer.  
  
"Ten thousand," was all he said.  
  
"Then we may meet these forces with an army of forty thousand," Elessar announced and raised his glass. "We will divide them evenly amongst the lands and borders and together we will defeat this common enemy. A toast. An alliance between the great lands of Middle-earth."  
  
The other glasses were raised except Legolas' who remained in his hand, but not held aloft.  
  
Another alliance, he thought bitterly. Another promise to be broken. Mirkwood may not be able to hold their side of the promise. He knew that all his warriors no longer wished the clash of metal on metal, but the ripple of wood on water.  
  
But he must at least hold up pretence. 'The false face must hide what the false heart knows,' he remembered his father saying him. 'That is the game of politics. You never win and you never lose, you just gain something of not much help'.  
  
Legolas slowly raised his glass as they toasted.  
  
"An alliance."  
  
How many times had he heard that said?  
  
Too many.  
  
~  
  
Pllleeeeeaaaaaaseeee review! 


	7. The Leave Taking

A/N: Thank you very much for bearing with me- you guys are awesome! A special thanks to Willow who has been a great help with this and of course to Lady of Legolas.  
Chapter Seven: the Leave Taking  
  
Legolas could not believe his eyes when he finally drew close to the borders of Mirkwood.  
  
From beneath the boughs of the trees, he watched as a procession made their way out.  
  
The elves were clad in silver satins and silks, the materials moving with their sinewy frames as they danced and sang. The music was as sweet as honey, rippling through the landscape. It was a bittersweet tune. In it they mourned the loss of their beautiful lands with the low keening notes, but then they sang with joy at the prospect of finally going to Valinor with the higher and brighter notes.  
  
He watched as a velvet-covered board scattered with Niphredil petals carried out the body of his mother.  
  
Her features were like that of an ice statue, unmoving and beautifully strong, but also at the same time extremely fragile. One movement could break them.  
  
She was carried by four elves, clad in the same silver grey. They held each corner of the board up, their heads lowered as they wept.  
  
Behind their path came a dancing maiden, her fair hair toyed with by the playful breeze. On her arm was a basket, and she threw flower petals on the floor after the tracks of the first elves.  
  
Next came the King's guard, who were most skilled in the art of war and fighting. Their mail was shining, and they held proudly in their hands their instruments of death. The bows were agleam and the scimitars, long knives and lances were polished until they were blindingly bright.  
  
They walked in front of their King, heads held high. They did not sing, but in their eyes, Legolas could see the same happiness and sadness.  
  
Thranduil was seated on the white steed that had been bred from the same family of horses that bore the Kings of the woodland realm always. His hair had been combed, and upon his brow was an emerald, as brilliantly green as the leaves of the Greenwood had once been.  
  
Legolas saw immediately in his father what his people revered: the strong will of a King and his wisdom were arrayed about him like a mantle. Yet they also saw the kindness he had, for in one hand was held a single Niphredil flower.  
  
"Ada" he called softly, and began to walk forward.  
  
Thranduil turned to see his son walk towards him and dismounted, his arms open wide.  
  
"Legolas," he said, and hugged his son tightly.  
  
"Father, no!" Legolas said frantically, trying to get away. "You can't go now! No.... you said that you wouldn't leave Mirkwood."  
  
"I was wrong Legolas. Our time on Middle-earth, Mirkwood, is up. Men do not need the elves and the elves do not need the men. We are taking the ship to Valinor. Every single wood-elf has come. They all hear the call of the Sea and it is too strong to resist," Thranduil said sadly.  
  
"Men do need us!" Legolas protested. "They need us father, to help defend Middle-earth." The words were true and heartfelt, but he could hear how childish and simple they sounded to Thranduil's ears, and he winced.  
  
"What difference will a thousand elves make to the mighty Gondor?" The King asked with a laugh.  
  
"Some difference. Some will is driving these orcs. They are cunning. They attack all the borders at the same time. We must help them before Mirkwood falls. I know that nothing I say will stop you from leaving to Valinor, but hearken to me when I ask you this: Could you bear to see our once beautiful woods fall? The trees that we lived in and climbed in when we were but elflings, burnt and fallen. I know for sure that I will feel that pain. And I also know for sure that you all will as well!" Legolas voice was raised and now he spoke to everyone else.  
  
There were a couple of murmurs of agreement, but mainly of disagreement.  
  
"When have the men ever aided us? Where were they when Mirkwood was attacked? Where were they when Dol Guldur was built? Safe in their homes, that's where they were!" Thranduil cried triumphantly. He mounted his horse again and signalled for the singers to start again.  
  
The party continued moving, and Thranduil trotted past his son.  
  
"That's the problem with the elves. You always expect something in return for something that you never did!" Legolas shouted after them. He was trembling slightly as adrenaline started to flow through his veins. He did not know why, but it was thrilling.  
  
"You yourself told me that father! You told me that politics was not about winning or gaining. I realise the truth of your words now, father. You cannot win something you never started. We will never win anything, even if we do take-up arms and fight, except the fact that we know that Middle- earth is good and not overridden with orcs. But if we do not fight, we may loose the men that need our help to succeed. We may loose Middle-earth."  
  
Legolas saw that his father was not listening to him, as his back was turned. Thranduil sat proudly and stiffly upon the horse.  
  
"It is him isn't it?!" Thranduil suddenly hissed.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Prince Eldarion. You've been dallying with that man!" the King said. His eyes were wild and he knew that this argument was won.  
  
"I have not!" Legolas denied, but he felt his cheeks becoming hot and heard the amused titters from the elves.  
  
"I can tell by the way that you blush," Thranduil laughed; he seemed to be enjoying publicly humiliating his son.  
  
In the crowd of elves, some were cringing under the King's verbal assault, as they felt sorry for Legolas. But most of them were laughing or smiling along with him.  
  
"You're just worried that your precious prince may not survive, so you want my, yes, MY fighters to risk their lives"-  
  
"It's not like that!" Legolas argued.  
  
"Yes, it is," the wood-elf said mockingly and turned back around.  
  
The procession carried on and Legolas stood there, watching his father's retreating back until all the elves were gone from Mirkwood and only he remained. Then he walked in their wake.  
  
"May the Valar protect him," he prayed softly as he walked.  
  
The farmers stopped and stared as the elves proceeded through the lands. Their faces were alight and to the humble, working class people who had never seen elves before; they seemed to come straight out of myth.  
  
Their hearts were aggrieved indeed at knowing that never again would they see the fair wood-elves or hear their entrancing song. At the back of the procession walked one elf fairer than all the others.  
  
His golden hair and luminous skin was breath taking to behold, and even in his misery, he was beautiful.  
  
The elves walked to the Grey Havens, and there waiting for them were fifty tall grey ships with soaring masts. The elves that lived in the Havens had been working over many years in producing these ships, as Thranduil had foreseen the wood-elves' departure.  
  
Fifty ships sailed out over the moonlit seas that night. Forty-nine of them were never seen again.  
  
Thus passed the elves out of Middle-earth and of most of them, nothing is said of in tale and legend. However one remains in the history of Gondor. Of him more shall be told.  
  
~  
  
"Legolas, awaken," a soft voice called to him.  
  
With bleary eyes, the prince sat up and looked at the man sat in front of him with loving affection. "Eldarion," he said and gently kissed his lover. "How are you?" he asked.  
  
"Fine."  
  
The man nestled against Legolas' chest and the wood-elf stroked his silky hair. The room was warm and friendly. The plush sheets, made from some luxurious material, were smooth against his skin. The man sleeping against him was beautiful in face and spirit.  
  
Suddenly all around Legolas blurred and no longer was he resting against the headboard, but he was sitting on the edge of the bed.  
  
In front of him was a pale Eldarion, his eyes blurry with sleep.  
  
Déjà vu washed over Legolas and he remembered that time. Eldarion suddenly buried his head in his covers, a blush coating his cheekbones.  
  
"Eldarion," he found himself saying. "What happened last night...."  
  
This was a dream.... this must be a dream! Why was he remembering this?  
  
"It was a mistake. Lovely, but a mistake," Legolas said.  
  
Then again the air around him blurred, and suddenly Legolas felt hot air surrounding him. It was so hot.... so very hot.  
  
He wanted to rip the armour that was on him off, but some instinct in him knew that it was the only thing that would protect him.  
  
'Legolas Greenleaf' a voice whispered inside his head. It was a woman's voice, deep and melodious. 'You know your fate. Why do you give in so easily?'  
  
It was slightly mocking and made Legolas grip the hilt of his white knives even tighter.  
  
Beneath him he felt the ground get hotter. Looking down he saw ice.  
  
Then he heard a shriek. Legolas spun around, his knives at the ready. What he saw made him gasp and try to run forward. But he could not. His feet were rooted to the ground.  
  
A horde of gibbering orcs were chasing after a young girl who was desperately trying to escape them by skating down the river. She had no skates on, though, and was sliding and slipping. Her brown eyes were open with shock, and she saw Legolas. The girl smiled slightly, and it was as if she slowed down, for the orcs caught up with her.  
  
"Lina!" Legolas cried. It was the girl that he had skated with.  
  
Lina smiled again she fell to the ground.  
  
The orcs surrounded her and Legolas saw that on their shields was not an emblem of a curved fang as Eldarion had thought, but a crude tongue of fire curving upwards.  
  
Then the orcs and Lina disappeared.  
  
'You know what your heart desires, why do you deny it?' the woman asked.  
  
An image of Eldarion flashed through his mind.  
  
In his hand was a letter with writing on it that Legolas recognised as his own. He took the letter from the man and started reading it. It said that he was leaving.  
  
Eldarion started to cry before fading out.  
  
'No! He can't possibly....' Legolas refused to admit it. How could this man..... love him? He had told Eldarion bluntly that he did not wish anything else to happen.  
  
'He loves you, prince,' the voice said tauntingly. 'Go back to him now and tell him that you love him also.'  
  
'But'-  
  
'You know you do.... the thing that Imrahil spoke of. The thing that is making you remain in Middle-earth is.....' the voice trailed off.  
  
"Eldarion," Legolas whispered. "Eldarion! Eldarion!" he cried as he realised the truth. "Oh Eldarion my love, I will return to you!"  
  
But then the air around him grew even hotter and Legolas felt the ice melting. The ice finally turned into water and Legolas fell into the river.  
  
It was cold, bitingly cold. He felt he couldn't move, and then he saw the eyes. They transfixed him. Two large almond shaped eyes, filled with cruel intelligence and the wisdom of centuries.  
  
It lowered his head and-  
  
"No!" Legolas said up with a cry.  
  
The dream had vanished into the night from which it had come. He looked around frantically. He was still on the boat. Surrounding him was elves, gradually stirring and looking around for a danger.  
  
At the front of the ship was a tall elf manning the helm. "Turn back," Legolas said with a deep breath.  
  
The elf instinctively turned around. "Pardon?" he asked.  
  
"Turn back." Legolas repeated the order coolly.  
  
"Legolas, what are you doing?" Thranduil said.  
  
Legolas turned towards his father with a slight smile. "I'm returning. Turn the ship back."  
  
The elf turned between his King and his Prince. "Ignore him," Thranduil said. "You are not returning to Middle-earth. Not to that man."  
  
"You say the word as if it is something poisonous," Legolas observed. "I've met men and dwarves that have been nicer towards me than most elves."  
  
Thranduil gasped. Marching forwards, he slapped his son hard on the cheek.  
  
Legolas stood level, his eyes cold and determined. He did nothing to retaliate.  
  
"I am not leaving Middle-earth to be destroyed. Orcs are not as stupid as you would believe. They will find some way to cross the seas, and then nothing and no one will stop to help you as you stoop to rebuild your lives," Legolas said. "Hearken to me all of you!" he turned to the rest of the elves on the ship. "How many of you here do not wish with all of your hearts to go to Valinor? How many of you still wish to travel the world? How many of you still wish to run beneath the boughs of Mirkwood, Fangorn and Lorien?"  
  
"Nonsense!" the King cried.  
  
"He speaks the truth," one elf said and stood beside Legolas. "I was disowned by my family when I told them that I fell in love with a mortal woman. They told me that if I came with them, then they would forgive my wrongs. My wife is now left in Middle-earth with a child- my child!!" the elf said.  
  
"Thank you Alad," Legolas said with a nod towards the archery master. "Any more of you?"  
  
"I too," a female elf stood forward. "I may not be able to wield a sword, but I have some skill with the bow." She had a reckless smile and bold courage that Legolas admired.  
  
Several more stepped forward before Thranduil clenched his fists tightly. "Bind his mouth!" he cried. "So that he cannot bewitch any more ears with his fanciful tales."  
  
"I do not ask for you to remain in Middle-earth for ever, even I do not wish that. But if this war is finished then I believe that we could make a home in Ithilien," Legolas said, his eyes lighting up as he spoke of the woods which he had enjoyed so much. "Tis a beautiful land and on the mouth of the Anduin. Who will come with me and make sure that the elves are known in the history of the Fourth Age?"  
  
More came forward and Thranduil grew more frantic, for soon more elves were with Legolas than against.  
  
"Legolas, I care only for you and your heart," the King said, opting for another tactic. "I do not wish for you to be hurt. I know that you care greatly for the man, but men are fickle in their desires, and your love may be short-lived."  
  
Thranduil was cunning in his words, appealing to Legolas' doubts and worries. But part of his words came from true concern. He did care for his son immensely, but he hated it when people went against his judgment.  
  
"Father," Legolas said softly, and held his arm out. "You may sway my mind, but never my heart. I am doomed and I am gifted to love this man, and love him I will."  
  
Thranduil nodded, and acknowledged that he had lost this argument. "Then go with my best wishes," he said and embraced his son. "Take this boat. Those who will stay with me, let us go to the small boats."  
  
Hung on either side of the large boats was two smaller ones, used in case of an emergency. Thranduil hacked at the ropes that held one up and it dropped into the water, it was still attached to the main boat by a tether. With the grace of a cat, the King jumped into the boat, swiftly followed by several others elves. When it was full, they let down another boat and Thranduil smiled up at his son.  
  
"Make them remember the name of Greenleaf," he said and taking up the oars they started to paddle. One other ship, noticing what was happening had stopped, and they made their way towards it.  
  
"Alad, change course and head towards the Bay of Belfalas," Legolas ordered standing in the prow. The wind and spray swept up and made his hair stream back and slowly the creaking ship turned and headed in the direction of the mainland. 


	8. Elven Melodies

Chapter Eight: Elven melodies  
  
"That is no ordinary orc horn," Eldarion said when he heard a strange noise from the south battlements. He raced around from his position looking northward, and came to a small clump of soldiers.  
  
Looking down he saw a small party making their way towards the gates. Then with an excited sound that he quickly muffled, he found the familiar form of the elf-prince.  
  
Legolas' skin seemed to glow even more as he marched at the head of the small platoon. In his hand was a horn; he lifted it and blew at it. More people were alerted to the sound and came running to the gates as the elves of Mirkwood marched towards them.  
  
The elves were garbed in green and brown, and underneath could been seen shining armour. In their hands were polished weapons that looked lethal in the long hands of the First-born.  
  
The doors were opened and the elves were accepted into Gondor.  
  
~  
  
"Thranduil sends his blessings with him," Legolas said.  
  
Elessar turned around and ran his hands through his hair with a sigh. The elf was shocked to see the dark strands streaked with grey.  
  
"That is all fine and good Legolas, but what help are a hundred elven warriors?" Elessar asked.  
  
"This is all I could get," Legolas said between gritted teeth. He knew that this wasn't going to be easy, but couldn't Estel understand this was the most he was going to get?  
  
"Well, thank you Legolas, send your numbers up to Faramir, he's organising all this," the King said. It was a dismissal if the elf had ever heard one.  
  
Legolas stood his ground. "You don't quite realise my worth."  
  
"You're a very good fighter Legolas, but you don't quite make up for the lack in nine hundred warriors you promised us," the man said, managing to be patronising and sarcastic at the same time. He was tired and snappy after not much sleep recently, and Legolas fretting and arguing wasn't really making his day run any smoother.  
  
The elf felt his cheeks become hot slightly at the mention of the promise he had made, knowing that it would not be fulfilled. "What about a hundred warriors and one that actually knows what it is you're fight"-  
  
"Father!" a breathless Eldarion burst into the room. He had run straight from the gate where he had received the news.  
  
Legolas sighed impatiently and crossed his arms and rolled his eyes slightly. He was overjoyed to see the Eldarion, truly he was, but know was not the time.  
  
"Edoras is in flames!" Eldarion cried and within seconds Elessar had grabbed Anduril and was out of the room.  
  
"A dragon," Legolas finished lamely.  
  
~  
  
"Saddle yourself up, Legolas!" Elessar said when he saw his friend running into the stable.  
  
He mounted Hasufel, and started to trot out of the wooden structure when his way was barred by the determined elf.  
  
"Legolas, move," the King said irascibly.  
  
"No, not until you let me finish," Legolas said jutting his jaw forward stubbornly.  
  
Behind Elessar came the figure of Eldarion on his horse. "Legolas, please could you move?" he asked. He was more patient than his father, but he was intrigued by the prince's strange behaviour. Legolas was becoming more and more unpredictable with each moment that Eldarion spent with him.  
  
"Elessar I know what it is that is attacking Rohan. You're far safer staying in Gondor. Not even Anduril alone could slay this creature," Legolas said earnestly, willing himself to stay in the same place when the hooves stamped the ground as impatiently as his master.  
  
"What creature?!" the King snapped.  
  
"A dragon."  
  
"They are creatures of mythology!" Eldarion laughed.  
  
"Nay," the elf said solemnly. "You are too young to know the history of the world--I am too--but there are dragons. This is one that has been hibernating for years, but it has been awakened and with it, it has rallied orcs to it's banner. Evil needs guidance, and the orcs have found a leader in the dragon."  
  
"Well what do you propose that we do?" Elessar asked, still slightly dazed by the quick revelation.  
  
"Go to Rohan and help protect the people. The dragon may yet have left"-  
  
"Edoras was just set alight. When dawn came, no one knew what had happened," Eldarion said.  
  
"Exactly," Legolas replied. "May I ride with you, Eldarion? I do not have time to saddle a horse."  
  
Eldarion nodded out of politeness and so that his father didnâEt suspected anything, trying to blank the fact that Legolas' hips were resting against his back and his arms were around his waist.  
  
"Come!" Elessar spurred Hasufel into a gallop, and they rode out of Minas Tirith, followed by a hundred other horsemen.  
  
~  
  
When they were nearing the border of Gondor and Rohan, Prince Eldarion felt warm breath on his neck and tried to stop his heart from beating so fast. Legolas had declared his intentions towards Eldarion, and they were not good, but the man could not help the fact that he had some kind of attraction towards the elf.  
  
He hoped it wasn't obvious, because he knew for certain that his father would not be pleased at all at the revelation that his son was homosexual. It was a practice that was not uncommon between warriors, men that lived by the sword. Their only company was other men, but that was something to while away the hours. It was not usually love but lust that they held for their partner.  
  
Elessar had made his views perfectly clear when Eldarion had first shyly told his father that he had a crush on the Captain of the Guard. The King had shown that he did not mind other people's sexuality, but would not brook it from one such as a prince, or someone similar who was going to be relied on for an heir to the throne.  
  
"Eldarion, any other parent would say that producing an offspring would be fine and that you can remain loyal to your lover, but I do not believe that. If you impregnated a woman, you should at least love her dearly. Sex without love is a devilish thing. Women should not be used a merely breeding instruments."  
  
Those were Elessar's very words, and they were imprinted in Eldarion's mind forever. He would probably find himself repeating them to his own children come his time to rule.  
  
"Eldarion," Legolas whispered in a voice that the man knew only he could hear.  
  
"Yes?" he answered with a deep, nervous gulp.  
  
"What I said... before," the elf said in a surprisingly husky voice.  
  
Eldarion felt goose bumps rising on his arms and his stomach twisting into knots.  
  
"I take it back."  
  
The man nearly dropped the reigns of the mare in shock. "What?" he hissed slightly too loudly, and a couple of soldiers turned around. Eldarion smiled foolishly and waited until they had turned back before continuing.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean that my words were rash, and Eldarion...." Legolas' voice became even quieter and the long arms wrapped around his waist relaxed slightly.  
  
"Eldarion... I know we both have feelings for each other," the elf said coyly and the prince smiled slightly.  
  
"Well, I was wrong in pushing you away. Eldarion, could we try again?"  
  
At that moment, Eldarion never remembered being so hopeful or joyous. His heart sung in his heavily thumping chest.  
  
"Of course," Eldarion replied, his voice cracking slightly.  
  
"Good," Legolas murmured and placed a soft kiss on the man's neck that immediately made Eldarion shudder.  
  
"Out of interest, what made you change your mind?" Eldarion asked suddenly.  
  
"I-I don't know," the elf stammered slightly. "It'll sound silly..."  
  
"Go on," the prince encouraged.  
  
"A dream and a voice inside my head."  
  
Eldarion smiled gently, although Legolas could not see. "It does sound silly, but I'll take your word for it."  
  
~  
  
The small party all mounted on horses had stopped for the night. After several pleads on the behalf of the weary steeds, they had persuaded Elessar that dead horses would be no help to Rohan.  
  
They stopped on the edges of a small wood that in turn was on the edge of the White Mountains that cut through Rohan and Gondor. The peaks were lofty and beautiful, for in the snow-covered landscape, they were even whiter. Not only were their peaks were now covered in snow, but the whole of the rock.  
  
The contrast against the green of the leaves was stunning and made all of it seem cleaner and brighter.  
  
But the natural wonder was not seen, for it was dark when they stopped. Elessar, who for all his kingly duties, had not forgotten how to start a good fire, starting one hastily.   
  
The men were slumbering fast and sat in a nearby tree was Legolas on guard. He had denied flatly any requests to go on watch first.  
  
"You feeble mortals need all the rest you can get," he had laughed, and skipped towards the woodland.  
  
The men had laughed along with him and had rolled their eyes at the strange antics of the elf as he placed his hands on the trees and started to murmur elvish words into them.  
  
They did not seem to reply to him, but Eldarion noticed that the tips of the branches swayed a bit more, and the tree groaned slightly.  
  
The man could not sleep, and the fact that his keen hearing could hear Legolas' soft song did not help.  
  
"To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying, The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying. West, west away, the round sun is falling. Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling, The voices of my people that have gone before me? I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me; For our days are ending and our years failing. I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing. Long are the waves on the Last Shore calling, In Eressea in Elvenhome that no man can discover, Where the leaves fall not: land of my people for ever!"  
  
It was meant to be a joyful song, Legolas knew it, for he had sung it before in Ithilien, but now it was tinged with sorrow and even jealousy. He had returned and now it would be many years, the years of Eldarion's life, before he would be able to hear once again the sound of the waves.  
  
Legolas' snapped down from the stars and realised that in his peaceful dreaming he had not noticed the figure walking towards him.  
  
Eldarion's milky skin seemed to glow from an inner light as he climbed up the tree with grace born of his human father. The branches creaked as he climbed up using them as footholes. Legolas chuckled.  
  
"The trees wish that you had some more of your mother's grace," he revealed.  
  
Eldarion found himself rolling his eyes also as he sat next to his love. "Legolas, may I kiss you while I am sober?" he asked.  
  
"A strange question," Legolas laughed. "Yes."  
  
The man leant forward, wrapping his arms around the elf's torso and drawing him in. He wobbled slightly as the branch moved beneath them, but he found Legolas' body a pillar of balance. The elf was sitting upright, his legs dangling over each side of the branch.  
  
Then Eldarion lowered his lips over that of the elf prince and they kissed gently and timidly.  
  
Legolas let the man's fingers run through his smooth hair, and in turn his own mapped Eldarion's face, committing it to memory. They drew away, and Legolas sat serenely, his eyes still closed, on his face a contented smile.  
  
"You look like the cat that got the cream," Eldarion observed with a playful tap on Legolas' nose.  
  
His coal lashes fluttered before Legolas opened his eyes and remarked bashfully: "I feel like that."  
  
Eldarion looked at Legolas' face in the darkness, only slightly lit from the right by the burning fire. His eyes were darker in the firelight, almost a black blue like the colour of the sea at night, the stars reflected in it. He saw so many emotions in those eyes: love, happiness, desire, grief and a painful longing.  
  
"Legolas, why did only one hundred elves come?" Eldarion asked.  
  
"Because...."  
  
Legolas tilted his head up to look at the stars once again. They seemed so far away from where he was. "They all left."  
  
There was silence while Eldarion swallowed this information. "Why didn't you?"  
  
"I realised," Legolas said simply.  
  
"What? What did you realise?"  
  
A small smile lit the elf's face like someone had suddenly thrust a torch in Eldarion's hands and had aimed it at Legolas.  
  
"That I love you." Legolas leant forward and placed another kiss on the man's lips.  
  
"Y-you love me?" Eldarion had found many things out tonight that he was having trouble believing in. The prince sitting in front of him had just declared that he loved him so much that he was willing to forsake his place in the Undying Lands, in Eressea as the song had told.  
  
"I love you utterly and completely Eldarion," Legolas vowed. "And I always will."  
  
"How much do you love me?"  
  
"Like salt loves meat," the elf said, using an old proverb that Gimli had taught him.  
  
Eldarion obviously hadn't heard this saying; it was showing on his baffled face. Legolas laughed.  
  
"Do not worry, it is an old dwarven saying," the wood-elf said.  
  
"Legolas, one final question," Eldarion interjected when Legolas looked like he was going to move. "Do you have the same.... longing for the Sea?"  
  
"Aye. I have since long before your birth," Legolas said, and without knowing it, made Eldarion feel young and naive; the man shrugged it off and continued to listen. "Everyday and everynight I have Sealonging. I fight it, but one day I know that I will have to give into it. I hope that day comes in many years, so that I will still be able to spend time with you."  
  
"I've never seen the Sea, what's it like?" It was true, the human had lived all his life in Minas Tirith, occasionally straying into Rohan. He had never a reason to go into South Ithilien of Belfalas.  
  
"It's beautiful. So wild and untamed. Not even the bricks and stone of men would be able to repress it. The Sea is a fickle thing in its moods. One minute it will be as smooth as an inland lake during summer, other times it will be like the spring river: the ice has just melted it and the river is overflowing and travelling down to the mouth so quickly and boisterously."  
  
Legolas' eyes were slightly closed as if lost in some memory then they snapped open at the sound of a slight yawn.  
  
"Come Eldarion, you need your rest."  
  
Legolas made as if to jump down from the tree, but he was stopped by a hand on his wrist. "Please A'maelamin," [my beloved] the man said, relishing in the amused look. "If I sit up here, I will sleep better than if I did on the ground. Just your company will lull me to sleep."  
  
"You may have my company," Legolas promised, frowning slightly, for the last sentence of Eldarion's sounded strangely like an insult. "But I fear if you sleep on a branch, you will fall off. At least sleep on the ground, against the trunk of the tree."  
  
Eldarion nodded, seeing the sense and knowing his own knack for clumsiness. They climbed down and the man sat on the velvety soft moss at the base of the tree, resting his head against the bark, and slept soundly.  
  
He was watched over by Legolas Greenleaf, who sat all night with a smile on his face and a song on his lips. ~ 


	9. Gladrau

Chapter Nine: Gladrau  
  
They rode into Edoras, the Golden Hall, the next day and a horror awaited them.  
  
The beautiful Hall made with loving hands by the men of Rohan was destroyed. It had burnt to the ground. The wood was blackened, and that was only the beam that was still in some semblance of the timber. Many of the houses were only piles of ash with bodies intermingled.  
  
"My god," Elessar breathed as he bent to the ground and picked up some of the ashes.  
  
"Elessar!" a strangled choke cried and the King was alerted to a small ring of tents ten metres away from the burnt ground.  
  
"Eowyn!" Elessar said in relief. The wife of Faramir ran towards him and they briefly embraced before she backed away with a slight blush. "My lord, Eomer is injured. He was the only one to make it out of Edoras."  
  
The King with the healing hands strode into the tent and immediately pulled off his leather riding gloves and placed one hand on Eomer's forehead.  
  
The man's eyes opened slowly. "Aragorn," he said in a dry voice.  
  
"What happened?" the King asked helping the man to sit up in the makeshift bed.  
  
"I was making my way out with another of the children when the building collapsed. A prop fell on my leg and I was trapped for a while before I was freed. My leg is only broken. There were far worse casualties. And do you know what the worst thing was?" Eomer asked.  
  
Elessar shook his head and pulling back the covers, inspected the wound. He nodded his head with satisfaction. It had been cleaned properly and was bandaged adequately.  
  
"We don't know what caused the fires," Eomer said quietly. He looked up at Legolas who stood there slightly guiltily for knowing. The elf did not know why he felt so guilty. Perhaps it was the nagging voice in his head that said he could have returned quicker and prevented this.  
  
"Fires? You said fires: plural," Legolas said. "Was there more?"  
  
"Aye," the King of the Mark nodded sadly. "A small village on the edge of the Anduin. Blazed to the ground. My men got there before Edoras was attacked. They had to return; they said no one was alive."  
  
Legolas felt the bottom of his stomach suddenly drop and felt sick. "No," he whispered.  
  
"What is it?" Eldarion noted the sudden change in his love's face. Legolas' skin suddenly went white and the elf himself found his hands shaking.  
  
"Legolas!" Elessar cried as the prince suddenly fled the room.  
  
Eldarion ran after Legolas who had quickly mounted a nearby horse. It had no bridle, the elf did not need it for as with all elves, they had a connection with horses and they will bear them willingly as they are light and gentle.  
  
"Noro lim, noro lim!" Legolas hissed breathlessly and the horse jerked into a gallop and tore across the landscape away from Edoras.  
  
"Legolas!" Eldarion echoed his father's call.  
  
"Eldarion, follow him," Elessar said between gritted teeth. It was times like these that he hated his secretive friend. "I will stay here and help the people. Take Hasufel for he is swiftest."  
  
Eldarion thanked Elessar quickly before running towards the horse of Rohan and mounting him, and then he set out after the disappearing splodge on the horizon.  
  
~  
  
Legolas rode for several hours before he finally reached the ruined village.  
  
The sturdy buildings that the Rohirrim lived in had one main flaw. They were made of wood and straw. Two of the most easily lit natural substances.  
  
All that was left of them was clumps of ashes and small piles of molten metal from where the fire had melted it.  
  
In one small building, there were still some small tongues of flame. Legolas quickly extinguished them with some snow. Then his breath caught in his throat and his legs gave way.  
  
In that small building he saw the charred corpse, hideously scared, but still unmistakable face of Lina's father. His once hard eyes were now glassy with death and stared ahead, transfixed on some spot that only he could see. It was up at the sky. The very spot that the dragon would have flown over from.  
  
Legolas' stomach churned and he felt his food returning. On wobbly legs he got up and ran out of the village before vomiting into some snow. He covered the sick up and returned to the body.  
  
The man's face was black and red, as scaly as an orc's, and his clothes had burnt of him in the heat of the inferno that had engulfed him and his village.  
  
"Lina?" Legolas asked. Whether the question was directed to the father or to himself, he would never know.  
  
"Lina!" he shouted.  
  
Nothing answered him.  
  
Legolas picked up the body and made his way out of the village once more and then with only his bare hands and his knives, he dug a grave and buried the man.  
  
Father to Lina. May he rest in peace.  
  
Legolas scratched in the snow, his fingers turning red from the coldness of it.  
  
He scoured the whole village and when he found that Lina obviously wasn't there, he repeated the process many times.  
  
There was a row of thirty bodies by the time Eldarion finally arrived.  
  
"No one knew them and no one will mourn them," Legolas said and burst into tears.  
  
Eldarion walked towards Legolas and wrapped him in his embrace, wishing he could shelter such a compassionate and beautiful creature from such a cruel world.  
  
"Lina, Lina!" Legolas sobbed into the warm velvet of the man's cloak.  
  
"Come on Legolas," Eldarion said and took the elf's hand as if he was a troubled elfling once more. "We'll look for her." The prince did not even know for who he was looking, but he did all the same.  
  
The pair walked through, inspecting the burnt ruins of the houses and burying any bodies or things that the scavengers would get at, in the snow. Finally Legolas gave a strangled sob and ran forward with each step his legs felt weaker and closer to collapsing.  
  
There lying on the snow, partially hidden underneath a piece of wood was a slender wrist. On that wrist was one small copper bracelet.  
  
"No!" Legolas shouted and pulled the board away.  
  
It revealed Lina's small body. Her eyes were the same as her father's. The dark orbs gazing into the sky, on her face a mask of horror and intense fear.  
  
The rosy cheeks were pale with death and her glossy hair had lot its shine. Legolas choked and with a strangely cry flung himself onto the ground next to the body.  
  
"Legolas," Eldarion said, his hands moving in soothing circles.  
  
The wood-elf sat up reluctantly, his eyes wide and red with tears. "I-I could have prevented this," he whispered. "Because of me people have died."  
  
Legolas believe that whole-heartedly. He had been told and warned of the dragon days before this had happened. He could have prevented this, but he was too busy doing other things, things that now seemed petty in comparison.  
  
"If I had got here quicker, she could still be living today," Legolas said in a voice that Eldarion could hardly hear. "Lina, oh Lina," he sobbed and let himself be held by his patient friend.  
  
Eldarion rubbed his back and ran his fingers through knotted hair as you would to a child and finally when Legolas' weeping had subsided, he pulled away. "Let us bury Lina next to her father."  
  
And they did. Her small body was placed in the snow next to that of her father. Legolas found a piece of charred wood and on it he carved:  
  
Lina. May she find eternal peace.  
  
~  
  
The survivors that could move and were well enough to, went about the arduous task of burying the dead.  
  
Most wept openly as they buried their family and friends and the stonemason made for each, a small grave stone and engraved into it in the tongue of Rohan their name and a small message.  
  
Even King Elessar could not hide back the tears as he helped one grief- stricken mother bury her own daughter. "It should be the other way around," the woman howled as she covered the face of her child with soil.  
  
Neina, daughter to Neris  
  
Was the only recognition that she received. The stonemason was working flat out and was under demand from the families.  
  
"If I had more time, I would have thought up words that would make a grown man cry," the stonemason said gruffly, his tears soaking into his beard.  
  
Elessar thought it was a rather vindictive thing to say and not sympathetic, but later when he watched the stonemason bury his wife, he came to the conclusion that everyone handles death differently.  
  
Another young girl, her face streaked with soot, worked in stolid silence as she buried an iron torque. It was the only thing that remained of her brother. He had been in the Golden Hall at the time and was in the middle of the flame. The torque had melted and then cooled again in the cold night air. It had lost most of its shape, but it could still be identified as some kind of jewellery.  
  
Then she picked up a handful of ashes and scattered them in the wind.  
  
Briefly the girl closed her eyes and murmured something in the rolling phonetics of the Rohan tongue before opening her eyes and carrying on, doggedly cleaning up her home.  
  
Elessar cast his cloak away, rolled up his sleeves and started to help her.  
  
~  
  
Night had drawn close when Legolas and Eldarion finally stopped toiling. They had buried everyone and had cleaned the village. Propping things back into place and moving the pieces of wood that had fallen in the way.  
  
Legolas had also finally stopped crying. The tears had dried on his cheek leaving a silvery track. Eldarion traced them with his thumb and where they ended, he kissed them.  
  
Legolas did not protest. All the emotions he had felt today had completely worn him out. He just lay in Eldarion's arms and smiled weakly as the man kissed and fussed over him.  
  
Finally the elf prince fell asleep, warm and comfortable. Eldarion watched over him as nearby Hasufel champed on a patch of grass that had been uncovered.  
  
~  
  
The yellow eyes were so wise and intelligent. The pupils were black slits that didn't allow any sign of movement and where the creature was looking at.  
  
His skin was tough and leathery, a carmine colour: dark red with the slightest tinge of purple. Upon his snout was a row of sharp, jagged yellow bone. Standing up like the lower set of teeth on a wolf, they were a dull yellow colour after his many years of sleeping lazily in the mountain reaches.  
  
Then at the end there was two deep, black holes that went into his nose. Every so often as he slept, smoke puffed out of them. Each of these puffs of smoke was large enough to be the amount that would come from a normal human cook pot while something was roasting.  
  
That was just how large and majestic this creature was.  
  
His wings were each the size of a normal sized wooden-structure house. His talons were long enough to be used as javelins and they were sharp enough to dig without any trouble through hard ground.  
  
The row of bone continued down his back and gradually lessened in size as they made their way down his long tail. Used, as one would wield a club. The dragon threw it around, the jagged bone adding to the brutality of the force it struck with. The dragon didn't really need his talons on the end of his feet. They were used before when there were more dragons and they fought over territory and meat.  
  
Nothing left in Middle-earth except the Oliphaunts (who were as large as elephants) needed the claws to help devour them. The smaller prey of men and other beasts were easily swallowed whole.  
  
This dragon was the last of his kindred on this earth.  
  
Smaug had been a distant relative and when he had left as well, slain by Bard, the man of Laketown, Gladrau had placed it on himself to remain the final dragon.  
  
Gladrau the Inferno: he had been feared when he had originally walked the earth during the age when the myth of the Silmarils and of Morgoth the first dark Lord, were not stories, but hard facts of life.  
  
He had sired several mighty dragons that were not written of in the history of the world for they were also killed. Gladrau was the Ancient, the Firebringer. Long he had lurked in the depths of his cave knowing that nothing would ever harm him. But one night he had awoken from a dream that foretold of his downfall.  
  
Gladrau had risen with a mighty bellow and had flown across the sky, both terrible and awesome. He had opened his mouth and the toxic acids had caught fire and so he had breathed flame across Edoras.  
  
Iaurhen he was called in the Sindar tongue- Ancient Eye. Gladrau had the awful power to freeze a person to the ground with one look of his eye. Those were caught in his gaze were terrified to death and it is said that through his eyes they saw all things ancient and ruined. It was called Dragonfear and it was Iaurhen's most potent and deadly weapon.  
  
Finally he had found who it was that was going to challenge him and utmost be his downfall.  
  
In his dream he had seen the slender and sinewy frame of an elf.  
  
Golden hair rippled down his back, flowing over the quiver of arrows that was slung there. Those and the long knife at his belt would not protect him, for Gladrau could only be slain one way.  
  
The skin of his underbelly was tougher than that of his ancestors due to all the lying he did on it all those years on the hard ground of his mountain home. He could not be pierced by arrows as Smaug had.  
  
~  
  
Legolas stood in front of the mighty dragon.  
  
Gladrau blew a small puff of smoke out of his nostrils in a flippant gesture towards the elf who stood in front of him, his bow aimed and bent.  
  
Galdrau blinked lazily and rolled his eyes. "This is too easy," he said in a deep rumbling voice that made the very ground beneath Legolas shake.  
  
He turned his eyes towards Legolas and the prince immediately let go of the arrow.  
  
It sprang from its hold and flew straight at the creature. It bounced straight off Gladrau's skin and fell, bent and dented to the ground.  
  
Legolas fired again. He hit the same exact spot, such was his skill with the bow, but it was to no avail. The same thing happened.  
  
Gladrau smiled, if a dragon could smile. His white gleaming teeth, honed into vicious points, shined at Legolas, yet still his heart did not quail. Then the eyes lowered.  
  
Legolas' eyes were instantly drawn to the thin, black pupil and there the wisdom of Ages met the wisdom of millennia.  
  
Gladrau blinked and the wood-elf reeled back, staggering slightly. The dragon's hold on him was almost magnetic. He wanted to look back up. He had seen so much in those brief instants. So much power, knowledge and magic. Legolas wanted to see more.  
  
The dragon lowered his eyes once again and mentally dismissed the dreams that had haunted him so much. How could an elf kill him? One elf? One puny First-born. They had much magic in their blood, but it was nothing in comparison to him.  
  
Legolas was drawn to those eyes as the moon and stars are to the night sky. He stared into them and saw the past, the present and the future. He saw so much truth in them.  
  
He saw the first elves as they walked into the new world. He saw the creation of men and their first fumbling steps. He saw the rape of the Silmarils. He saw Melkor's lust and greed for them. He saw Feanor's slaughter of the elves. He saw all that in one second and more.  
  
Time sped up and Legolas saw himself staring into the eyes of the dragon. He saw Eldarion and he saw his death body being cradled by the sobbing and crying man.  
  
Gladrau sniggered nastily and with one more blink, he sent the full Dragonfear into Legolas.  
  
An icy cold fear gripped Legolas' heart. His eyes rolled around in their sockets as blood stopped going to his head and then he-  
  
"Legolas!" Eldarion slapped the elf across the cheek, leaving a fast appearing red mark.  
  
The prince sat up with a jolt, his blue eyes wild and delirious. "Where is he?" he cried. His heart was thumping so heavily in his chest that Legolas thought the organ might explode from the effort.  
  
"He is not here," Eldarion said, slightly remorseful for waking Legolas up so. But he had been writhing in his sleep and had such an awful and terrified look on his face.  
  
"Gladrau!" Legolas gasped and tried to stand up, but Eldarion's arms were wrapped to tightly around him and the elf found that after his near-death experience, he was too weak to struggle. "He's the one! My ancestor's souls! He's going to pay!"  
  
"Who?" the man asked.  
  
"Gladrau!" Legolas repeated. "Iaurhen in elvish: Ancient Eye. Eldarion!" he turned to his love and for a minute his face was almost rapturous. "I looked in his eyes and I saw everything. I saw the beginning!"  
  
Then the elf's face sobered and he turned his head away from Eldarion's bright gaze and looked into the darkness around him. "I saw..." he trailed off and covered his mouth with one hand to stop the wail that threatening to come out.  
  
"What?" the man asked.  
  
"I saw.... my death." Legolas turned back to Eldarion. His eyes were so wide and the prince from that day onwards swore he had never seen someone so terrified.  
  
"I am not afraid of death," the wood-elf went on. It was true. Legolas was not an elf that suffered from fear. He had stood defiant and fearless against thousands of orcs. He had fought a cave troll without wincing and he had trodden the Paths of the Dead without distress. Gaining entry to the Halls of Mandos would make up for ending his life. Once more he would be with his mother.  
  
But what he feared was Eldarion.  
  
In a remarkably short time, a bond had been formed between the two that they both were reluctant to say, was almost unbreakable. Legolas was scared of leaving Eldarion behind. Eldarion may well die from grief, but the elf did not want the man to go through that.  
  
"I am afraid of leaving you," he whispered and nestled his head again Eldarion's chest and lay there, listening to the comfortingly regular beat of his heart.  
  
Across Eldarion's face fluttered an expression of almost guilt. He would be the one to leave Middle-earth and he would be the one to leave Legolas on his own. He knew that the elf was strong in body, but not in spirit. Grief was a far deadlier killer in the elves than men. Their love was stronger and therefore so was the consequences.  
  
"You'll never leave me, melamin," [my love] Eldarion vowed and kissed the trembling lips. He would do anything in his power to stop Legolas from feeling such dread and remorse. "LimVeru earda nandin ii oron atal`ta, lle anwo ematte` nin." [The seas will run dry and the mountains will fall, but I will never leave you.]  
  
The man's elvish was shaky after such a long sentence in the language but the meaning was still there.  
  
"I love you," Eldarion said in a soft voice.  
  
Legolas's eyes lifted and they were filled with such hope that it made Eldarion nearly weep. "Show it to me," he begged.  
  
Eldarion nodded. "You sure you want this?" he asked cupping the elf's smooth cheek.  
  
Legolas nodded his eyes ardent. "Eldarion," the prince said softly, a slight dusting of colouring on his high cheekbones and the tips of his ears.  
  
Eldarion nodded again and gently started undoing the buttons on his love's tunic while all the time Legolas lay in his arms peacefully murmuring his approval in a mixture of elvish and Westron. 


	10. Determined Destiny

Thank you to my brilliant reviewers. you're all so lovely! Thanks a bunch Willow for checking the previous couple of chapters. Um. Cassie, Isabel and of course the supreme Lady of Legolas! If I forgot anyone out, then I apologise. This chapter is left on a big cliffhanger so I will try and update before I go away from the week.  
  
Leaving you there wouldn't do anything for my popularity.  
  
Anna.  
  
Chapter Ten: Determined destiny  
  
"Eldarion, you are staying here!" Legolas cried and with a determined look on his face, mounted Hasufel.  
  
"Oh yes," the man retorted sarcastically. "And what should I tell the wolves when they surround me? Don't worry, Legolas will be back soon?!"  
  
The elf glared at him. "Don't be so immature," he hissed.  
  
"Immature? Immature?!" Eldarion's voice was raised as he repeated the word that sounded absurd. "I'm not the one chasing away without proper armour and any help, to go and fight a creature of myth! Legolas, if in your dream he killed you once, then he will kill you again and this time, you won't wake from it!"  
  
Legolas stiffened at this. Blinded by his own stubbornness, he did not see the sense in the man's words and instead heard only an insult.  
  
Then his head pricked up and Legolas stared west. "Your father is coming." With that he urged Hasufel into a gallop.  
  
"Legolas!" Eldarion shouted at the figure on the horse galloping in the direction of the Sea of Rhûn. It was to now avail.  
  
The harsh winds blowing knocked his voice backwards and it was lost.  
  
Eldarion plonked himself on the ground with an angry sigh and waited for his father to arrive.  
  
~ One week later~  
  
It had been hard travelling across the Brown Lands. There was very little food for both horse and rider. Elves can survive on very little, but Hasfel needed to replenish the energy he burnt off every day.  
  
Luckily in the one of the saddlebags on Hasufel was a package of lembas bread. Legolas had once found them an enjoyable source of nourishment, but since the time when the Three Hunters had run, he found that the taste had gone. That was due to the fact that that was the only thing that kept them going, and partly due to the bitter taste in his mouth at leaving Eldarion.  
  
It was true. Elessar was riding straight for his son, but it would take just under a day for him to get there. What if something had attacked Eldarion? The prince was trained only with his bow and sword, never hand-to- hand combat.  
  
Legolas had skirted around the mountains at the foot of the Sea of Rhûn and now had his back to the iced over sea and was staring up at the peaks.  
  
The summits were in the clouds, all of them, and they were blindingly white. Against such a bright colour, the greyness of stone was obvious. That was how Legolas noticed the abode of Gladrau the Dragon.  
  
Near the base of the tallest mountain was the opening of a cave. The grey stone could still be seen, as the snow had not blown into the gap. From there, if the elf strained his eyes, he could see the occasional puff of smoke.  
  
Gently, Legolas slid his long knife out of the sheath at his belt and twirled it between his long fingers. The blade was sharp and freshly honed. The silver reflected the sunlight and Legolas glimpsed his own eyes in the reflection. They were wide and afeard. In his anger, the prince had not noticed the growing fear in the bottom of his stomach. Legolas wished suddenly for the company of Eldarion.  
  
For the man to say something funny to make him laugh, for when Legolas laughed, it seemed to everyone else that the sun shone out of his eyes. Eldarion loved dearly the elf's smile. Mostly, Legolas smiled uncertainly, and only when everyone else did. He was nervous of being caught out. But when he did smile or laugh, it was so joyous and cordial.  
  
Legolas slid the elven knife back at his waist and with a deep breath of the cold air, walked silently towards the cave.  
  
~  
  
The elf warrior's face was grim and purposeful.  
  
If Gladrau ever felt some form of apprehension and anxiety, it was now. For as the elf walked towards him, his light feet making no dent on the snow, he seemed to shine. Upon his brow was a light like a star. His golden hair was thrown over his shoulders and seemed to be made of the precious metal, melted and mixed with platinum and silver. His skin was as pale as a peal that had just been opened from its watery case.  
  
At his slender waist was a long knife, no notches or nicks had blemished the shining blade, but Gladrau instinctively felt that it had been used many times in battle.  
  
In his hand was a bow, a bow that struck dread into Gladrau's cold heart. This was no ordinary bow he realised.  
  
The intricate design on it marked it as one of the Galdarim. The elves of Lorien had made this bow and they were the most skilled of the elves. The magic they possessed in the blood was passed through their fingers and into the very wood of the bow. The bowstring was made from fine strands of gold.... elven hair.  
  
The arrows in his quiver were fletched with multicoloured feathers from some exotic birds... the birds that fluttered and flitted through Lothlorien.  
  
Gladrau delved deep in his memory and back into a previous age.  
  
flashback  
  
Gladrau Firestarter.  
  
The name brought a shiver to even the most hardened warrior.  
  
One of the last of the mighty dragons. Smaug? Pah. Still hidden in his burrow, he cared more for jewels and trinkets of men than the knowledge that your name stirred fear everywhere.  
  
The mighty red dragon swooped over plain, dale, hill and river. He didn't care for what he took and eat, or for what he burnt in the way. One day, Gladrau had awoken with a mighty hunger for the dainty morsels that were elves, as food.  
  
He had lifted to the sky, so large and bloated was his shape that he near blocked out the sunlight and darkness fell over the Golden Woods as Gladrau swooped down.  
  
There was elves patrolling on a border, they were resting next to the Nimrodel. A sweet song came forth from their throats and they sung like nightingales. It was such a sweet sound, and it angered Gladrau so much.  
  
He wanted some game so first of all he just swooped over them. They shrieked and started firing arrows at him. They were all deflected by the hard dragonscales.  
  
Gladrau swiftly tired of this game, for although the arrows bounced off his hide, it was getting frustrating to see such tempting food running around and screaming.  
  
He headed towards one. Taller than all the others, he looked to be the eldest of the four. He had silver hair, a stubborn chin and calculating green eyes. His rich clothes far too rich for a normal patrol elf, showed his high status. He was Celeborn, husband to Galadriel, Lady of Light. In his hands was a bow already set with an arrow.  
  
The bow was beautifully elaborate. The wood looked frail but it showed no signs of breaking as it was bent back in an elegant crescent shape. The golden string rested against the marble shriek of the elf and as Gladrau raced towards him, he fired.  
  
The arrow flew straight and landed in the belly of the dragon.  
  
Celeborn made no foolish sounds of rejoicing, but as Gladrau slowed down, he fired again and again.  
  
Wound into the string of the bow was the golden hair of Galadriel. It lent magic to the bow and thus to the arrow.  
  
Gladrau wheeled to the side when he felt the stabbing pain in his gut. With a shout of anger, he lowered his mouth and breathed flames over the elves.  
  
End flashback  
  
Only one managed to escape. Celeborn stood, the bow still in his hands. He surveyed the bodies of his friends with unblinking eyes. He could not believe it. Celeborn looked at the sky where the form of Gladrau was sluggishly flapping away and vowed that somehow he would have revenge on the dragon.  
  
If it were not him that did the act of retribution, then he would see to it that someone else did.  
  
That night, Celeborn returned to his wife.  
  
Galadriel stood, her fair features grave and inside she was weeping for the deaths of the elves. Celeborn she whispered to him silently.  
  
Galadriel?  
  
Come with me the elf woman took her husband's hand and directed him towards the Mirror of Galadriel. All the time during their long marriage, Celeborn never again looked in the Mirror.  
  
He bent over and silently Galadriel filled the basin up. The silver water rippled and changed shape before Celeborn's eyes.  
  
In the water he saw the form of an elf appear. He was still young and dressed in black: he was mourning. The angle of the water changed and Celeborn could clearly see the elfling's face.  
  
He had wide blue eyes that were sorrowful and had such intense emotions in them. He saw wisdom and a burning anger. He had high cheekbones set in flawless ivory skin and had a small rosebud for lips. His golden hair was very similar to Galadriel's in colour but it was as straight as an arrow.  
  
Legolas Greenleaf Galadriel said. He will be the one when everyone has gone  
  
When everyone has gone? Celeborn wondered.  
  
Galadriel nodded her head and lowered her eyes to the water once again. Following the eyes that had seen the future, Celeborn watched as the water again changed shape.  
  
He saw boats crossing the sea. Their white sails were billowing out with wind and looking closer, he could see that they were being steered by elves....  
  
Celeborn saw himself at the back of the boat, looking back at Middle-earth.  
  
Celeborn, his wife got his attention again. We will be leaving this world in the future. We leave Middle-earth in the hands of men  
  
"Men?" Celeborn burst out. He had not many dealings with the race of mortals, but he had found them to be cunning and sly, and not always truthful in their words.  
  
"Men," Galadriel echoed.  
  
All the elves will go except one who will turn back and be the last leader of the elves, that is until he will come to Valinor also  
  
No Celeborn said in unbelieving silence.  
  
Yes Galadriel assured him. But that time is many years away  
  
How can I reach this Legolas?  
  
The Mirror of Galadriel shifted and Celeborn was staring down at an image of nine people. One was unmistakable as Mithrandir- the Grey Pilgrim- there was two other men. One Celeborn could only place as a man of Gondor. He had the same grey eyes and shifty look that the Lord found common among them. Then there was another man.  
  
He had an uncanny resemblance to the Kings of Men. Noble in face and solemn in features.  
  
Aragorn son of Arathorn Galadriel revealed. He will be the first King of the Fourth Age of Men  
  
Then there was a dwarf and four other small beings.  
  
Halflings, of them you will find out more  
  
Then there was an elf. He was dressed in the grey and green customary with the Greenwood elves. His long hair was partially tied back in one plait with two small braids running behind his ears.  
  
The grandson of Oropher: Legolas  
  
There was another picture of Legolas before the screen returned to its normal state. He was standing at the side of the man that was Aragorn and next to him was the dwarf. They seemed to be in some strange stone building and in his hand was the bow that Celeborn recognised as his own.  
  
You know what you must do now, my love. Do not worry; Gladrau Firestarter will be slain Galadriel said offering the Lord some hope.  
  
Will Legolas survive? Celeborn asked. One elf against a mighty dragon, even if he did have the bow of Celeborn, was slightly outmatched.  
  
Of that, I am not sure  
  
~  
  
"Who dares disturb the sleep of the mighty Gladrau?" the voice bellowed out and Legolas stopped walking to stand defiantly at the cave entrance. He could only guess that was what he was staring at; it was pitch black.  
  
"Someone with an odd to settle," Legolas replied, shouting over the howl of the wind.  
  
A puff of smoke came out of the cave as Gladrau's response.  
  
"What chance do you think an elf will have against a dragon?" Gladrau asked cockily.  
  
"None," the prince replied truthfully and readied his bow. "But I'm hoping that at least I'll take you with me."  
  
"Mighty confident," the dragon laughed. The sound reverberated around the mountains and nearby land. "For someone about to be killed."  
  
"The Halls of Mandos will be a great adventure for me," Legolas said, hoping that his false bravado was not detectable.  
  
"Well good," Gladrau chuckled. "For it will be the last thing you see."  
  
"I challenge you to a fight!" Legolas suddenly burst out, an idea sprouting in his nimble mind.  
  
"My dear elfling!" the dragon said congenially. "I thought that was what were doing originally."  
  
"Really?" the elf cried sarcastically. "I was just here for the parley."  
  
Gladrau's whole body shook as he laughed mightily. He had not come across such pluck in one who was about to look death in the eye. Legolas would be a worthy opponent, finally after all these years. Gladrau would take great enjoyment from slowly disemboweling him either that or roasting him alive.  
  
"Name the place and I'll name the time!" Legolas said energetically.  
  
"Okay," Gladrau said slowly. He had a slight niggling worry that Legolas was planning something. But if he was going to plan something, the place would be of more importance to name, rather than the night or day. Besides the dragon had equally good sight during the night. One handy trick that the dragons used to hunt their prey was their infravision. They could see in the dark by using bodyheat.  
  
"The Sea of Rhûn," the Firestarter announced. "There is a particularly nice view of my mountains so that while you're dying, at least you'll still be thinking of me."  
  
"Okay, and the time is..." Legolas paused. He didn't know whether it was the actor in him pausing for dramatic effect, or the calculating fighter trying to fool his enemy. "Daylight: noon."  
  
Gladrau raised one large muscle above his eye and snorted slightly.  
  
"After all," Legolas said agreeing with the giant creature. "I wouldn't be able to see the view at night."  
  
"Of course," Gladrau concurred. "It looks particularly splendid at dawn or dusk, but seeing as you're so convinced, I'll go with you."  
  
"Brilliant!" Legolas said clapping his hands enthusiastically. "I'll see you then."  
  
Then with that Legolas turned around and tried to make his way out of the valley created by the mountains. He stumbled slightly and smiled sheepishly. "My good sir," he said.  
  
"Please call me Gladrau if we're going to be like this," Gladrau said affably.  
  
"Yes, Gladrau, could you give me a little burst of light?" Legolas asked with a slight smile. If only this dragon was in an elf form, he might be quite a nice person to talk to.  
  
Gladrau beamed showing his perfect teeth again and nodded obligingly. Then as requested, blew out a small puff of fire.  
  
It lit up the valley and Legolas thanked him with a wave and know more confident as to where he was going, set off back to Hasufel.  
  
When Legolas finally reached the chestnut coloured horse he buried his head in his mane and let out a sickened groan. It had suddenly hit him what he had just been doing.  
  
He had been joking and acting almost friendlily towards the killer of innocents. Gladrau had cold-bloodedly slain villages of people and had a reputation for killing a lot more than that. And Legolas had been laughing and exchanging comments as one would with a neighbour. Not as the closest of friends, but still very warmly and politely.  
  
Legolas felt his stomach churning as he remembered Lina. "Oh forgive me," he whispered to the stars.  
  
They did nothing but glow.  
  
"What would you do anyway?" he asked angrily. "Nothing!"  
  
They still glowed and suddenly Legolas burst out laughing at his folly. Tears started running down his cheeks as he laughed and then he realized that they were not joyful tears but sorrowful ones and then he cried even harder.  
  
~  
  
The sun rose the next day above a clear and cloudless sky and Legolas met his opponent on the still iced surface of the Sea of Rhûn.  
  
Gladrau's heavy feet did not crack the ice nor did his body heat melt it. And for this Legolas was thankful.  
  
They were in the middle of the Sea and if the ice were to suddenly crack then Gladrau would be able to easily fly away. Legolas would be left to swim in the frozen waters and although the elf could swim and fairly ably, water that cold would freeze your heart and limbs before you could start to swim.  
  
Gladrau's yellow eyes were half-closed and he averted them from Legolas. It was hard because the prince was staring at him with a mixture of awe and fear.  
  
The dragon was like a tree to an ant in comparison to Legolas. One swat of his paw would probably break Legolas' frail vertebrae.  
  
Gladrau was calm yet was slightly excited. He had not fought an enemy he considered worthy enough, in millennia. He wanted to play by the rules and otherwise he would have unleashed his fiery jaws or opened his mesmerizing eyes. Gladrau was slightly annoyed at the feeling most people had against some of the older beasts of the world. They had dignity and did not like to be treated as though they had no morals.  
  
Yes they did kill whenever they liked, but if called to a duel, then they would fight correctly.  
  
Legolas tilted his head back to look at the sun. It was nearly overhead. He looked down and then realised that he had no shadow.  
  
"It is time," Gladrau rumbled.  
  
"Indeed," Legolas replied softly. All former confidence and show of bravery he had put up was gone. "Eldarion my love, forgive me," he whispered.  
  
With another look up at the sky and a wistful sigh Legolas turned to his opponent. His throat was as dry as the Brown Lands during the summer.  
  
"Turn away," Gladrau ordered going by the rules of duels used by the dragons during fights over territory and females.  
  
Legolas turned his back from the dragon and stared at the mountains. They were indeed very beautiful. The snow caught by the sun was so white and so pure.  
  
"In the count of three we begin," the dragon said. "One...."  
  
Goodbye Eldarion.  
  
"Two....."  
  
I hope this works.  
  
"Three....."  
  
Goodbye fair world.  
  
~  
  
*Ahem*  
  
If you wouldn't mind reviewing.? 


	11. Dance of Death

A/N: I am sooo sorry for being away for so long. I couldn't help it. Blame my cousin for getting married and then blame my mother for paying for my trip to Germany. I'm a bitch I know. These characters aren't mine.. yackety yack. The title might be that of a certain play stating Ian McKellen, in which case neither is the title of the chapter.  
  
Chapter Eleven: The Dance of Death  
  
Legolas unsheathed the knife at his waist and started spinning it between his fingers. His back was still away from Gladrau and the dragon was patiently waiting.  
  
The actions became quicker and quicker. More exaggerated they flipped through his fingers; his thumb spun around the hilt.  
  
Then reaching behind him, his hands still spinning the blade, he pulled out the knife that was used for cutting arrows. It wasn't as sharp but it was the same length. They were twin but Legolas had found that he was far deadlier with only one of the white handled knives.  
  
With his left hand he started spinning it.  
  
They spun in exactly the same movements. Between his fingers, over his thumb, around in circles, around the other way, in a star pattern.  
  
The star pattern was exceptionally breathtaking. The blades pricked the air in five different points and connected them while it was spinning. At the speed it was going, for a brief second, you could see the path of the knife, blurred as it was, and then you watched as it drew the shape of the star.  
  
Then Legolas threw them up into the blue sky. They caught the sun and glinted. Instantly, Gladrau's eyes were drawn to the blades still twirling as they fell down.  
  
Legolas spun around on the ice and caught them. This time he was facing the dragon as he performed the same pattern again. It became even quicker and quicker.  
  
His hands were moving in a blur and it took Gladrau's keen eyes to follow the blades.  
  
The beauty of the warrior elf's dance captivated Gladrau. Legolas gradually started swaying his lissom body in time to the beat that he tapped with his foot.  
  
He started spinning, his golden hair caught in the noontide breeze. It was lifted above his head and toyed with by the wind like seeds from a dandelion flower. His deep blue eyes followed the blades intently and the movements that came in time seemed more natural than intended.  
  
The knives gyrated above his head and then they were moved down and underneath one raised leg and back to waist height. He threw them up in the air and clapped his hand, and glided in a circle on the ice before catching them again and resuming the dance.  
  
The dragon stood all the time his eyes eagerly watching the movements of the blade. They were the only things that captured him. The spell they cast him on him was because of two reasons. The first was that the knives were of elven blade and Gladrau impulsively feared them because of this so he watched them in case Legolas was going to strike him. The second reason and really the most truthful was that Legolas was the wizard wielding his staff.  
  
Legolas' source of magic was that of his weapons. A spell was lowered on Gladrau that was so undetectable that the dragon didn't fight it.  
  
For a second the movements of the shiny metal slowed and Gladrau watched in shock as he met his own eyes in the reflection in the metal.  
  
He realised why Legolas had wished to fight at noon. It was the time of the day that had the most sun and the blade would reflect it the best.  
  
Gladrau stared into his own eyes and saw what had captured so many helpless people. He was sinking into his own pool of dragonfear!  
  
Legolas speeded it up and Gladrau was forced to follow it. He needed to look into those eyes again. So much wisdom he thought even as he felt the first icy grip on his heart that signalled the beginning of the fear.  
  
Between his fingers, over his head, around his torso they spun Legolas still watching them. For an instant he looked away and saw those yellow eyes staring at his knives. He looked into those eyes but saw nothing. Gladrau was busy focusing without noticing it, the dragonfear at himself.  
  
Legolas lost his concentration and slipped slightly on the ice, it was getting hotter from the long contact that the dragon's warm body had made on it.  
  
The knives fell from his hands and were thrown up into the sky. They twisted and spun below the clear sky.  
  
Gladrau gave a cry of dismay as they carried on upwards. His gaze was still lost in the reflection. His eyes were still staring at his own. He lifted himself of the ground with mighty effort and flapped his wings hurriedly trying to get to the knives.  
  
The dragonfear was overcoming him even more. He felt his limbs starting to stiffen as he nearly reached the knives and yet again was filled with the lust to stare into his own eyes.  
  
Legolas quickly straightened himself up and in an action that he could now do with his eyes blindfolded, he bent his bow and fitted it with an arrow.  
  
The hair of Galadriel rested against his cheek for a millisecond as he aimed at the unprotected belly of the beast.  
  
Legolas's eyes were cold and merciless as he released the string.  
  
The arrow flew straight, the bright blue fletching on it nearly invisible against the sky of the same hue.  
  
There was a slight shriek as it cut the air and headed towards it victim.  
  
Suddenly Legolas' mind snapped into play and he realised what would happen if the arrow were to strike Gladrau. Turning on his heel to swiftly, he slipped again on the ice and landed facedown with a heavy thud.  
  
There was a loud caw that could be heard in lands as far as Gondor and the arrow met its victim just as dragonfear finally killed its owner.  
  
The spell that had been used so successfully against many innocent victims would no longer be used as both Gladrau and the knives started falling.  
  
The arrow possibly may not have been needed but Legolas wasn't one to gamble his life when it was already at stake.  
  
Due to Gladrau's phenomenally greater mass, he fell quicker, the knives were still in the air when the dragon hit the ground his eyes dull already.  
  
There was a loud crack and the hard ice of the Sea of Rhûn split under the impact.  
  
Legolas was still on the ground when beneath him the ice separated. He was plunged into the waters with a gasp.  
  
He felt himself sinking lower and lower. His heart's beating became slower and slower.  
  
Feebly, he reached out one hand to grasp something, anything. He opened his mouth to scream but all that came out of his mouth was a couple of bubbles of oxygen and carbon dioxide.  
  
Legolas' heart finally stopped beating. The blood stopped going to his brain and all his organs shut down.  
  
His face frozen in a shout for help and his hand frozen in the outstretched position, Legolas sunk deeper and deeper into the icy waters of the Sea of Rhûn.  
  
Near him the form of Gladrau sunk swifter. The yellow eyes were now shut and he had almost a peaceful look on his face. He had seen the future and he did not like it, it was almost a blessing that he did not have to be included in it.  
  
The last of the dragons on Middle-earth died and with them their legacy of fear and terror. Dragons were only even seen from that day onward by the pictures in book of mythology.  
  
Legolas Greenleaf felt himself falling deeper into blackness and thus the dancer of death died.  
  
~  
  
Before them was the broken Sea of Rhûn.  
  
The frozen water was broken up into numerous ice floes. They seemed to have split up because something heavy broke them up.  
  
"But what?" Elessar asked looking out over the Sea.  
  
"Gladrau." was all that Eldarion murmured and started to step forward but he was stopped by his father's arm.  
  
Elessar's question was unspoken but his son still answered it: "The dragon."  
  
Aragorn swallowed deeply, his hand dropped to his side and Eldarion stepped onto a piece of ice. He slid slightly but then regained his balance and determinedly started walking slowly towards the large gap in the middle.  
  
"Legolas?" the King suddenly cried.  
  
Silence was the only thing that answered him.  
  
Eldarion stepped over a gap and onto another ice floe. Beneath his weight, he felt it cracking again. "Get down!" Elessar shouted.  
  
"What?" the prince said turning back to his King.  
  
There was another crack and Eldarion felt the ice separating. He jumped to one side just in time for where his foot was only the bitter water remained.  
  
"Lie down, you need to spread your weight!" Elessar advised and Eldarion nodded, seeing the sense in this. He lied down on his front and started edging his way forward on his belly like a snake.  
  
The large the surface area pushing down was, the smaller the pressure upon the ice would be. It was less likely to crack under all of his body than just his feet.  
  
Meanwhile, Aragorn had gone along the shoreline and found an area that had a fairly large and unbroken piece of ice stretching most of the way in. He darted back to one of the horses that the Rohirrim had lent him. It came with saddlebags filled with brandy, bread and soft leather boots with blades attached.  
  
Elessar pulled off his own boots; taking care not to let his feet touch the air and pulled on the leather shoes. They were slightly uncomfortable. The metal blade could be felt right down the middle of your sole, as the leather was only soft. But inside, it was padded with animal fur that kept the King's feet nicely warm.  
  
He stumbled forward on the blades, cursing himself for not putting them on closer to the ice.  
  
Elessar had skated along rivers and over small lakes when he was younger, but never quite had the hang of it. He left that to his more elegant and perfectly proportioned friend.  
  
Legolas.... he thought and stomped on tenaciously. As he did the wind whirled around him and he was taken back to a childhood memory.  
  
Flashbackend flashback  
  
Elessar shook his head and smiled slightly. This latest escapade of Legolas' was so unlike him, but then, when the prince got something into his head, he would not stop until he had attained it.  
  
His smile quickly froze at the sight before him.  
  
It disappeared from his face as quickly as darkness comes in an eclipse. Elessar felt darkness had come over his heart in that moment.  
  
He had come to a gap between two large ice floes and there, one hand outstretched but not in a welcome gesture, was Legolas' drifting and still body.  
  
The hand was trying to grasp for something that obviously wasn't there. His eyes were wide in terror and his mouth was open in a silent scream.  
  
The King felt his head become light and his legs turn to water beneath him. He collapsed to the ground without a care for the fragile ice. His knees ached from the impact and his mind was reeling.  
  
"No," he whispered in disbelief.  
  
"NO!" he screamed in denial.  
  
In an instant, Eldarion knew something was wrong. His head spun around with speed that made him wince. His keen eyes fixed on the form of his father, holding onto something in the water.  
  
"Legolas." Eldarion felt something in his gut revolt as he jumped from floe to floe. Suddenly his clumsy human limbs were as nimble as a deer in flight.  
  
Elessar was struggling valiantly to haul the frozen body out of the water, but he wasn't having much luck. Legolas' body seemed to be stuck in place. His limbs were staying in the same position, as they were when he had died.  
  
The King noticed his son's presence behind him and with renewed hope, started pulling.  
  
He managed to get Legolas' upper torso onto the ice and from there, Eldarion grasped the legs partly out of the water and swivelled him around. Then the prince rolled him over so that the face was looking at him. The eyes were so scared that it made Eldarion himself felt the dread.  
  
With shaking hands, Elessar fumbled at the elf's chalky white neck for a pulse. There was none.  
  
With grey eyes that were filled with pain and anguish, he met his son's blue ones and Eldarion knew.  
  
"No!" he shouted. "I won't believe it!"  
  
He did believe it and as he checked himself and then held his cheek over the prince's blue lips, he believed even stronger. Legolas was dead: gone from this world.  
  
Eldarion's face went white and he started weeping, throwing his fists down to beat the ice repeatedly until his own hands started going blue. And then he felt warm arms around. Clumsily, Elessar embraced his son and turned him around so that the prince was facing him. Eldarion hurtled himself into the King's hug and buried himself in his chest wishing that this was all a bad dream and that he would soon wake from it.  
  
It wasn't a dream though.  
  
~  
  
I know I probably don't deserve this, but could you please review? It doesn't take long. honestly! 


	12. A Final Goodbye

Chapter Twelve: A final goodbye  
  
Elessar and Eldarion refused any help flatly and with grave faces and tearful eyes, marched through the lands bearing Legolas' dead weight between them.  
  
They walked the long miles to Minas Tirith, only stopping when one of them was going to faint from fatigue.  
  
As they walked, they found a crowd following them.  
  
For the final march through Gondor and to the White City, they had nearly twenty people from assorted lands following them.  
  
Men who had known Legolas because they had fought alongside the beautiful and courageous elf. Women who remembered when the kind and giving elf had helped restore their villages after the attacks. Children who were told in songs of the bravery of the elf.  
  
Legolas had not met many of these people, but he had still influenced them.  
  
Accidentally, Elessar had to brake Legolas' arm in order to get it to lie at his side. They had closed his eyes and managed to move his jaw upwards and close his mouth. He no longer had such a panicked look on his face, instead looked relatively peaceful.  
  
Gladrau's body had been discovered and it had taken fifty men of Rohan the good part of two hours to pull him out. Already armourers were flocking from all over Middle-earth to hacking at the skin.  
  
Dragon scales made one of the most durable and hardest armour in the world. It was as hard as Mithril, if not slightly more, because it also protected the wearer from magic. The only downside of dragon scales was that it was fairly clunky and hard to walk in.  
  
Gladrau's teeth were also being removed by the looters. In many cultures, dragon teeth were seen as a symbol of protection. They had holes bored into them and then were threaded onto string or metal chains.  
  
News travelled quickly to Gimli in the mountains and reluctantly, the dwarf agreed with Legolas in saying that: "Horses are the quickest form of travel short of flying."  
  
With a crooked smile he looked upward and murmured to his dead friend: "It doesn't mean that I like them."  
  
Gimli traded some gems for a brown mare after realizing that the boisterous black stallion might be a bit to wild for his liking. Then he set out and intercepted the party on their way to Minas Tirith.  
  
Mounting a hill, he looked down and saw the group weaving their way slowly, but surely towards the city gates. At the front of the party were King Elessar and Prince Eldarion. Their faces were almost yellow with exhaustion and they had black rings around their eyes that were puffed up from the almost ceaseless crying.  
  
Gimli then saw the body of his friend.  
  
The elf's straight nose was unmoving and a brief memory raced through his mind.  
  
flashbackEnd flashback  
  
Never would he see that proud nose scrunch up again. With that thought, Gimli howled loudly and falling from his horse, sprinted towards the body. He reached it within seconds; dutifully the two men slumped slightly so that Gimli could see his friend.  
  
"Legolas, you crazy elf," he sobbed as he clutched one icy hand tightly, as if it was his only lifeline.  
  
"You said that you would never leave me."  
  
Gimli could simply not believe it. Legolas was always going to be the one left behind when everyone else went ahead. He knew that, many times he was pensive because of this and a couple of times, Gimli had seen the elf brush away tears and put on a shaky smile.  
  
Legolas knew the price he was going to pay for his friendship to mortals. He had been warned about it, and against his sense, he went ahead and befriended several mortals who looked up to and admired him. Hell, Gimli thought, they even loved him.  
  
Gimli knew that he had found a trustworthy and immensely honest friend. Legolas was surprising. Even after their long friendship, he could still surprise Gimli.  
  
His death had certainly done that.  
  
Gimli had never thought that Legolas would never be foolish enough to go and slay the dragon on his own. But then, Legolas had much of Thranduil's obstinacy. Then again, he was also easy to injure if you insulted his pride.  
  
Elessar tilted his head to stare at his one-time companion. "He promised all of us that at one time."  
  
'I promised him that', Eldarion thought and with a shaking hand, smoothed down the golden hair that was still remarkably shiny and glossy.  
  
'And I broke my promise'. Eldarion had let Legolas go ahead to his doom without hardly any protest. He had just resigned to the fact that Legolas was going to fight a dragon.  
  
If he really loved Legolas so much, he would have followed him to the ends of the earth. Maybe he was lying when that frozen night Legolas had asked for comfort and he had given it willingly. Maybe it was not love but something it was mistakenly often for- lust or desire.  
  
Gimli let his hand drop down and the group continued on. The stout warrior marching ahead planning things he could say at Legolas' funeral.  
  
Around them swirled the snow more harshly, if it was possible, than before.  
  
~ One month later~  
  
They had decided that Legolas' sending off should be one not marked with black and mourning, but celebration and joy, as much as they could not bear it.  
  
They had left the bleak halls of Minas Tirith behind. Gimli had suggested, knowing dearly how his friend felt claustrophobic when in stone buildings. He knew that if his friend was going to die and had to have a funeral, it would be outside, beneath the sun and sky that he loved so much.  
  
A couple of the elves had wanted a royal memorial, fit for the station that Legolas was: a prince among elves. But even they knew that Legolas had never wanted his rank. More did he wish the feel of wind brushing through his air, than that of a metal crown.  
  
And so they had decided upon it.  
  
Legolas' body was to be put on a raft and it was going to be floated into the river so that in some morbid way, he would cross the sea finally. Even if it was a journey in which his soul was not partake.  
  
They had waited nigh on three weeks so that all who were close to Legolas, could make their way to Ithilien, the place where the prince had desired to set up an elven colony. Alas, the elves were going to remain there, for they too fell in love with the beautiful woods, but they were going to be leaderless.  
  
From the Fellowship of the Ring came Elessar, Gimli the dwarf, and only two of the hobbits: Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took. Affectionately known by all as Merry and Pippin. They were getting on, nearly eighty. Their hair was no longer the dark blonde and brown colour it was previously, but a distinguished silver. Their eyes still sparkled mischievously.  
  
Frodo Baggins had passed over the Sea many years ago along with Gandalf the White. Boromir, son of Gondor and brother to Faramir had sadly died at Amon Hen. His soul rested now in the Halls of Mandos if all was well. Boromir had tried to take the Ring of Power for his own, however he had paid up for that with his own life and bravery in battle.  
  
Samwise Gamgee, the faithful companion to Frodo, was living happily in the Shire with his wife Rosie and their numerous children. The old hobbit was getting stiff joints, but he still worked hard in the garden and the pain did not affect his friendly nature that was hard to match anywhere else. Sam was as loyal friend as Legolas was a skilled warrior.  
  
The pony ride to Ithilien would have been hard on him and so Sam had decided to stay. It was mainly due to the fact that "Little Elanor's going to have an even littler Elanor!"  
  
The proud father was soon going to be a prouder grandfather.  
  
The elves were the first to be on the beach in Ithilien. Their raiment was white, so white that it nearly blended in with the snowy surroundings. But their shining hair gave them away; otherwise no one may have noticed them.  
  
Their faces were stony, but their eyes were filled with grief and joy intermingled. They were filled with the loss of their captain, the elf who had led them back to Middle-earth, and there wasn't an elf there that at some time harboured their doubts about returning. Though, there was also joy at the thought that Legolas was going to the Halls of Mandos, there he would be re-united with his mother.  
  
Next came the hobbits, clutching each other for support and weeping softly.  
  
After that came the men that Legolas had known.  
  
Eomer came, now feeling guilty for the harsh words he had spoken in a heated moment before. He bore the crown of the King of the Mark well. He was a dutiful King, devoted entirely towards his people. He wished them to have a better reign under him, then his uncle when so much hurt had been caused. Behind him and occasionally touching him to make sure that he was well, was his wife. The daughter of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. She knew Legolas not, but felt that she should support her husband.  
  
Faramir and Eowyn came hand in hand. The fair maiden once cold and beautiful in features had softened considerably after the birth of their first child. The brow haired cherub, burbling and chuckling, brought so much happiness to his parent's life. The child was being minded by a nanny for the day though. They thought that the babe would be too noisy for a sad occasion such as this.  
  
Faramir was quieter then his brother Boromir, who was also greater known then he. But he was a good leader in the land of Ithilien. Wise and knowledgeable after his upbringing in the law courts of Gondor. There was some who said he was too cautious and did not speak much, most ignored that though.  
  
Behind them came Prince Imrahil. He had grey eyes that were sympathetic and his dark hair had been combed neatly and braided. The slight point in his ears was the only thing that suggested the small remnant of elven blood that he possessed. That tenuous link between Legolas somehow managed to make him feel closer to the elves and for that, he mourned more, he did not cry though.  
  
Walking down the sand and to the riverside next was Gimli. His beard was going a dark rust colour with age and it was lined with grey. Dwarves can live long lives and this dwarf was no different. Gimli was still somehow healthy. As Legolas once said: "Its a wonder that you manage to survive when you're forever smoking. It must be the fact that you live to annoy me." His leather skin was lined with wrinkles but he was still hale and sturdy as ever. Gimli was walking slower than normal. Whether it was due to the maelstrom of emotions rushing around in his head, or the wound he received in his leg during a fight with wargs.  
  
Proud and tall walked the King of men, Elessar the Elfstone. His face was sad indeed and it seemed to watchers, that all the ages of the world were piled on his back. Next to him, his constant support and guidance, Arwen Undomiel walked, her dainty feet making not a print in the sand. She was robed in silver so that she looked like a lofty star high up in a snow filled sky.  
  
Her blue eyes were even and dry, even as she looked at Gimli, immediately they filled with compassion and warmth. Separating slightly from her husband, she walked alongside the dwarf, sharing her comfort silently.  
  
Finally, the saddest party walked forward.  
  
Eldarion.  
  
He was dressed regally in rich velvets and smooth satins that flowed over his body like water. His hair hang down limply, lacking the healthy finish that it normally had. His skin was sallow and his eyes seemed to be lacking glint or character. They were devoid of happiness and were ringed with grey lines.  
  
He was taking it the hardest and there was not a night that passed, he didn't cry himself to sleep. Not since the discovery of Legolas' body, had Eldarion allowed himself to be hugged or comforted by anyone. His own father was dismissed sharply and his mother knew better than to try.  
  
Four elves had been selected as worthy candidates to bear the raft forward. They were strong and loyal to Legolas until death itself.  
  
The vessel was a small boat crafted by the skilled river men of Ithilien with help and guidance from Prince Imrahil. It was made from the silvery bark of the willow tree and engraved lovingly onto the side was pictures of flying birds, ships, trees and swords.  
  
Lying inside it was Legolas' still form. The golden hair that flowed down his body was now still as a dammed river. The silver clothes that would have rippled over his body was now as still as the clothes drawn onto a model in a picture.  
  
Lying next to him was his two knives retrieved lovingly from the ice. Some strange phenomenon had made them appear on the ground, when surely they should have sunk. Clasped in his hands was the bow of Celeborn and he wore proudly his gauntlets with the tree of Mirkwood on, stitched in golden thread.  
  
Over the silver clothes previously mentioned was something wondrous that enhanced the wonder that surrounded Legolas.  
  
Gimli had strangely purchased some of Gladrau's skin and had all the time that he wasn't mourning, locked himself in a smithy and set about making the armour with a feverish energy. As he banged it into shape, Gimli felt some satisfaction but he couldn't still help but gasp at the final result.  
  
The main part of the armour, buckled around Legolas' chest had been a dull red when Gimli had bought it. After all the work and polishing he had done to it, it was a shining red like that of fresh blood. Vivid against the pale skin and it shone like nothing else. In the sunlight it seemed to turn a deep purple, while in other light it was a blue. Mainly it was carmine, a beautiful red with purple intermingled.  
  
It was a suitable piece of armour for a skilled warrior.  
  
The elves that stood on the beach opened their mouths as everyone made a crescent shape around the jetty. A heartrending melody came forth that sang of Legolas. It was soft and could barely be heard above the crash of the waves.  
  
Eldarion closed his eyes as fresh tears started to pour out onto his hot cheeks. It he listened hard, he could almost hear Legolas' own unique voice.  
  
Elessar also closed his eyes and bowed his head. Seeing the King doing this, everyone except for the elves followed suit. Aragorn could distinguish the words sung in accented elvish. The phonetics of the piece was silky smooth and rolled over the elf's tongues.  
  
They sung of his valour in battle, his wisdom, his kindness and the prince that they all looked up to and admired. It was not the shallow praise that is often used when you speak of heroes. They were skilled people with the sword and were valiant, but all that came naturally to them.  
  
Legolas was naturally an introvert and he had to fight hard for this position where he was venerated so much and held in such high esteem. And he had to fight for people's attention.  
  
Elessar remembered the shy elf that he once knew and then compared it to the modest and reserved elf that used to be. It might not sound much of a difference in words, but it was in actions.  
  
Legolas when he was younger was so silent that he almost became invisible. Many would call the prince shy today, but he was far louder and more confident.  
  
The elves kept on singing as Eldarion, Elessar and Gimli stepped forward to take the boat from the patient bearers.  
  
They walked forward, Gimli leading them, as he was too small to help. They walked along the jetty and lowered the boat into the water.  
  
Eldarion paused for a second, his hand momentarily letting go of the wood and Elessar only just renewed his grip otherwise the boat would have been taken out already.  
  
Gimli was weeping openly as he stared at the body of his friend.  
  
Eldarion had caught himself waiting for Legolas to sit up. For those eyes to open and blink slowly as if awakening from a deep sleep. But they didn't.  
  
"Eldarion?" Elessar asked.  
  
The prince shook his head and made himself nod.  
  
"Its time."  
  
Gimli choked and with a sob leant down and caught the frozen hands and kissed them. "Bless you lad," he whispered in dwarvish though none could understand the harsh tongue.  
  
"Aratoamin" [my champion] Eldarion cried, ignoring the looks that the elves and his father were giving him. "Melamin," [my love]  
  
Elessar stiffled a gasp and just nodded. "Quel esta," [rest well] he said and pressed a kiss onto the elf's forehead. "The Valar knows you deserve it."  
  
With a look at each other, the three bent down simultaneously and gave the boat a small jolt.  
  
The boat jerked and was caught by the waves of the river.  
  
The people there stood there in silence watching as the boat made its way down the river Anduin.  
  
From there it would meet the Sea in the Bay of Belfalas, and from there, it could travel anywhere.  
  
The only sound was that of the elves' constant singing weaving through the broken sobbing of a bereaved lover.  
  
~  
  
Please review. 


	13. Death

Chapter Thirteen: Death  
  
'If this is death' Legolas thought and sat up. 'Then it is far stranger than I ever thought.'  
  
Looking around, he was in the middle of a plain. It was luscious and green, it reminded him of Rohan and a sudden sharp pang struck at his breast and Legolas gasped.  
  
He would never see Rohan again.  
  
The sky was clear and blue; it was not obscured as it had been before by the thick curtain of snow. The sun was bright and warm as it shone on the figure of the elf.  
  
Legolas lifted up a sleeve and was startled to find that it was heavy and had some kind of armour on. It was a maroon colour, yet when he raised it higher, it got lighter in tone.  
  
The prince sighed and stood up, swaying slightly as he felt nauseous.  
  
The land around him suddenly started spinning and Legolas fell to the ground clutching his stomach and wailing.  
  
"A! Tampa!" [Ah! Stop!] he cried and another wave of sickness washed over him. Suddenly Legolas felt a fresh breeze upon his brow and blinking, found himself staring at the Sea.  
  
Next to him was the form of Elessar and Gimli. The ranger was not yet clad in the robes of his Kingship and Gimli was.... well Gimli.  
  
Legolas' grinned widely and hurtled himself at the man. Maybe this had all been a dream. A horrible dream. He had survived! And hope sprung up and but then it disappeared quickly when he felt straight through Elessar.  
  
They stood there, still staring at the Sea. As if nothing at all had happened. Legolas looked up with wide eyes from his position on the sand and started sobbing.  
  
Before he could gather his senses, the air around him blurred again and he was back in the glade in Mirkwood.  
  
He was shivering in the branch in the tree overlooking where his mother lay defenceless against the orc that was wielding the knife.  
  
As if in slow motion, he watched the knife hurtled down at his mother's chest. Niphredil screamed loudly.  
  
Legolas threw himself from the tree, he was moving far quicker than anything else. Maybe... maybe this was some kind of thing that took him back in time and he could correct something. Yes!  
  
He stumbled slightly when his feet slapped against the ground but then he righted himself and was still sprinting at the orc.  
  
The knife was only centimetres away from its target.  
  
With a cry like a wild animal, Legolas launched himself at the orc and the same thing happened again. He fell straight threw the orc and onto the other side of Niphredil.  
  
The knife stabbed down true and Legolas knew that this was not some dream to right a wrong, but a memory.  
  
"Legolas Greenleaf," a voice commanded and Legolas blinked. His eyelid brushed against a tear on the verge of falling onto his cheek. It toppled off and started rolling down his pale skin.  
  
Another tear and another tear came and then the landscape shifted again.  
  
He was crouched on a grass path before a large hall.  
  
The doors were impressively large. They looked large enough for an Ent to easily pass through them. Maybe that was the idea, Legolas thought light- headedly  
  
The passage through the three different places made him feel dizzy and his stomach was still revolting.  
  
He switched his gaze back up at the door. There was one knocker at normal height for an elf or man and then there were a couple of ones of different sizes.  
  
Legolas chuckled slightly and got up on wobbly legs and staggered towards them. He reached the one that was at the right height for him and then knocked.  
  
The sound was loud and seemed to echo around the valley.  
  
"Legolas, enter," the same booming voice, answered.  
  
Timidly, Legolas pulled open the doors and was confronted by a sight that made him reel back and gasp again.  
  
In front of him stood one of the Valar.  
  
Námo, Mandos, the guardian of the Halls of Mandos. The keeper of the House of the Dead.  
  
Legolas then realised the truth, he was dead and this was to be his home for the rest of eternity. Turning around briefly, he stared helplessly out back into the valley.  
  
Mandos was a majestic sight. The Valar was as tall as the highest knocker on the door and his mantle was black like a night and it was studded with gems that were brights as the stars.  
  
Legolas turned back and faced the Lord. But he looked past the Lord and into the Halls of the Dead itself.  
  
He could see the spirits of the dead flitting past, contented smiles on all of them. The Halls of Mandos was a place of rest for many, for those weary of life, it was their goal.  
  
At the back he could see the most beautiful woman ever. Her hair was as dark as raven's wings, and yet it seemed darker. Her eyes were grey as a stormy sea and her fingers were thin and long as she spun the fabric of time onto the spindle. She was Vairë the Weaver: spouse to Námo.  
  
Legolas' eyes then widened as he slowly recognised the woman that was walking towards him and finally stopped behind Námo.  
  
Her skin was as pale and soft as the clouds in the sky and if her face was the clouds, then her hair was most definatley the white of the snow that fell from it in showers.  
  
The fine white hair fell over her slender shoulders abundently. She was dressed in a simple beaded gown that was brighter than her hair. Enhancing the tone of her body was a vivid red mantle draped around her.  
  
"Legolas," she murmured.  
  
"Mother," he answered.  
  
"My little elfling has grown up," Niphredil said with a smile, tears starting to fill her luminous eyes. "My, my, aren't you a handsome elf. You certainly took after your father."  
  
Legolas had. He had the same darker skin and darker blonde hair. His features were softer than his father's though courtesy of his mother, and he had inherited a sylphlike body. Willowy and slender, but still well muscled.  
  
Niphredil lifted out a hand to carress her son's cheek but she was stopped by a command from Námo.  
  
"Niphredil," he said softly. "You must wait until the judgement."  
  
Legolas swallowed deeply.  
  
"Are you prepared for the judgement Legolas?" Námo asked, the deep eyes boring holes into the prince.  
  
"Yes," he replied his voice trembling slightly.  
  
The Lord of Mandos nodded his head and his face had almost an encouraging expression upon it. Do not fear, LegolasI am sorry that before we could not find you immeadiatly. You were lost in a plane of memory, it was hard to retrieve you from it. However, now you are here, and we will get back onYour body will be taken away as it only burdens those that are deadYou may feel slightly disoreientated to start with  
  
That was right. Legolas felt as though all his innards were slowly melting. The process was painless but unexpected.  
  
His foot touched the floor and immeadiatley Legolas felt lighter as though all his worries were dropping away. Briefly Legolas studied his arm and found that it looked the same, if slightly translucent in the ghostly light of the Halls.  
  
The next foot nearly passed over the line and he nearly fell into his mother's hug when he felt something pulling him backwards and with a shriek Legolas fell onto the ground outside.  
  
In contrast to his featherly light right side, Legolas' left arms, legs and torso felt so heavy and ungainly. They were still connected to the living world and his body was still with it.  
  
"No," Niphredil said, her hands moving to her mouth to cover the widening 'o'.  
  
Mandos' tall body loomed at the doorway and he gazed down at the elf. "Legolas, you are still part of the living world," he deemed.  
  
Legolas growing more frustrated snapped back: "That much is obvious!"  
  
To his surpise, the Lord chuckled softly in mirth before taking up his normal expression. "Your bind with the man is so strong that he and you are both not willing to part. This will meant that unless you choose which world you belong to, you will wander in the nether planes, a limbo until your soul can return to Mandos."  
  
The elf's body suddenly felt cold in fear. He was doomed to eternal wandering unless he chose life or death? This was all to sudden for him to be expected to give an answer. Life would usually be the choice option. It would mean returning to his love, Eldarion, whose bond with him was so strong that it opposed even death.  
  
However rest in the Halls of Mandos would mean a cessatation from the harsh realities of the ever changing world. He would not have to go through the pain of losing all his mortals friends, but he would see them again when they became too old for life. And then there was his mother. Niphredil had been ripped away from his life at a young age and Legolas desired her company so much.  
  
The Queen's eyes were aching. She knew what her son would choose, she had seen it in Naire's weaving. She also knew that with his descision, would come some consolation for her.  
  
She could see her son's love for the man. It hurt her to, but she knew that it was the right thing. The son of Elessar was a noble man, worthier than many elves of the Greenleaf's love.  
  
Legolas' heart was in turmoil, throbbing with all the different love he would have to choose between. He met his mother's wise eyes in silence and saw the answer there.  
  
"I choose life," he said.  
  
"So be it," Mandos declared. He knew that this transition back to the living world would be far harder than dying. Legolas may get lost in a plane of existance as he had on the way to the Halls.  
  
The world was not made just of certain lands or pieces of earth. There were dimensions beneath it and above it. Maybe invisible, but to someone in it, they were painfully real.  
  
Namo decided that he would give the elf all the help he could and nudge him in the right direction like a busker whose stay was over and who needed another place to sleep the night.  
  
Niphredil closed her eyes briefly and watched as with a grim smile on his face, Legolas picked himself up and stood watching as Mandos summoned a gateway.  
  
"This may lead you straight to Middle-earth, or it may take you to another world. There are many other gateways such as these. Beware of the firey gates."  
  
With these final mysterious words, Legolas felt the lightness of spirit drop from him and (with some happiness it must be noticed) felt the heaviness of life returning to him.  
  
"The gateway will remain open for thirty seconds. Legolas Greenleaf, may you live long and prosper," Namo said raising his hand in some form of farewell.  
  
"Tenna' ento lye omenta" [Until next we meet] Niphredil cried with a sob and retreated into the shadowy contents of the Hall, Mandos following her.  
  
Legolas was left hovering slightly pondering these words, before plunging himself through the gate.  
  
~  
  
It was a bleak landscape.  
  
The sky was grey. The air was dry and made Legolas' lung irritated. He coughed dryly and breathed in the air deeply before wincing.  
  
It was an oppressive feeling. The land was as dry as the air. Not even roots survived in the baked clay soil that was as hard as stone after. Somehow the sun managed to shine through the cloud-obscured firmament, and it shone through brightly.  
  
The light it came up with seemed alien to Legolas who rejoiced under a bright sun nearly as much as under the twinkling stars. It seemed to be dead.  
  
Glowing over a dead world.  
  
Then he found the reason.  
  
Legolas spun around his alert elf ears hearing the sound of heavy footsteps. In the horizon he saw a dot growing bigger and bigger.  
  
The build of the person was heavy and as he drew closer, Legolas found that he exuded an aura of menace and danger.  
  
With midnight blue eyes, Legolas stared.  
  
His hands drew to the knives that the prince found was at his waist. The armour was also still on him. It would protect him if he had to fight, but it would also slow down. Legolas could feel the heavy dragon scale weighing down his shoulders and constricting his movement. He would wear it through.  
  
"My pretty!" a snarl cried and the man came within Legolas' range.  
  
He had skin that was a deep brown after roaming this sun-baked terrain. His hair was as black as night and was clumped into small plaits that were fastened with clay beads. His chin was large and squared, making his whole head seem even more like a box. The thick, black moustache was straight as steel and fell down his face after going horizontally, in right angles.  
  
His thick shoulders were bearing straps that held up the mighty scabbard that the two-handed sword normally rested it. But now it was being deftly tossed from one giant hand to the other. His thick arms had brown leather gauntlets that seemed barely adequate to stop the powerful muscle from bursting out.  
  
He wore nothing on his top half except the scabbard. His skin was as dark as his face and his abdomen was flat, his chest was slightly scarred with old battle wounds but looked powerful. As he moved the muscles rippled in time with the movement. They never seemed to relax.  
  
Legolas stumbled backwards slightly.  
  
He was a skilled fighter, but this man looked to be nearly seven foot. Legolas had the height of most elves, an impressive six foot two. He usually looked over the heads of men. This one was different and he would be a fearsome warrior.  
  
"Don't you run now!" the man bellowed. An inane smile cracked across his face like mud left out during a heat wave.  
  
"I just wants to talk to youse!" he shouted in a crude form of the common tongue.  
  
Legolas winced slightly at this simplicity of the language that he already considered crass and vulgar. The prince drew his knives and suddenly wondered where the blades had come from.  
  
The last he had seen of them was when they were falling through the air. He had never seen them touch the ice though, Gladrau had fallen first and cracked the ground.  
  
"'Ey!" the man said with another lopsided smile. "'Ho are you?"  
  
He stopped about five metres away from Legolas.  
  
"I've ain't seen youse around 'ere. You new?"  
  
The look on his face was so childish that led Legolas to doubt this man's mental health. If the sword hadn't been in his hands, Legolas would have been more at ease with this simple giant who seemed so far, friendly.  
  
Without waiting for an answer, the giant stuck his hand forward and when Legolas didn't take it. A look of complete anger rushed across his face and immediately the simple expression turned into that of a madman.  
  
"That weren't polite!" the man spat and hefted the sword up into his right hand.  
  
Legolas realised swiftly that this one-sided conversation wasn't going to end happily in an invitation to share a cup of tea- or something slightly stronger. The elf found himself wistfully dreaming of a strong glass of whisky, a warm fire, rain pouring down outside and Eldarion curled up in his arms.  
  
The daydreamer had to snap back to reality when the sword whistled past his ear. Turning on his heel, Legolas sprinted away, running anywhere.  
  
He hoped that there was a gateway nearby, otherwise it looked like Legolas would be returning to the Halls of Mandos rather unsuccessfully.  
  
~ 


	14. A Reunion

Chapter Fourteen: A reunion  
  
Somehow Legolas had managed to escape from that plane and had fallen into another world. The gate was marked by fire, normally Legolas would have heeded Mandos' words of advice and missed them, however death looked imminent at the hands of the giant.  
  
One so terrible that he would never ever speak of it. It had made Legolas see another side of him, one that he never wanted to remember. That world had pitted him against those that he loved dearly. In his mind, Legolas was shown as killing Eldarion hundreds of times, over and over and again the memory was replayed.  
  
It had nearly driven him mad. Legolas had wandered that bleak world for nigh on one month. Battling with inner demons that plagued him constantly.  
  
He was weak with fatigue and lack of food. His frame was skinny and his feet were bleeding from the rough stones. Legolas had lost his shoes in the race to escape from the madman. It was a price at that time he was willing to make, but now he was regretting it sorely.  
  
His eyes rolled around in his head nervously, scanning the horizon at all times for the demons that were masked as his friends and family.  
  
Finally Legolas had made it out of that world via a green gate. A bright emerald like the grass in Rohan shone out of the metal surrounding the door.  
  
Stumbling like a drunkard towards his next drink, Legolas ran through it laughing madly. He fell on wet grass and there he lay until someone finally found him.  
  
~  
  
The prince had fallen into a pasture belonging to a hard working and blunt Ithilien woman who went by the name of Esema though none called her that except her old husband. She was known by most as "ma'am".  
  
She was a widow who had worked her fingers nearly to the bone so that she could keep her and her son afloat. For this she was respected and admired, also slightly feared in her village situated in the small coastal country of Ithilien.  
  
The woman had a pasture of cows that she milked. The milk was sold every six days at a farming market in a larger town.  
  
Her son was a stark contrast to her, more like his father in his attributes. Quiet, loving and dependable, Merlin (his father had a penchant for birds of prey. He had carried this obsession with him to the grave when an eagle while trying to wrestle its egg off the man, stabbed him) had a longing to see the outer world.  
  
Merlin had a natural talent for healing. While the other boys of his age were boisterous and loud, flirting with the girls constantly and training with swords, Merlin spent all his time in his studies.  
  
He borrowed books of lore and of the biology of plants from the local healer. Merlin's skills were called for by women in childbirth and by any other people taken by various ailments.  
  
He had a soothing way with people and for that he was well liked by the older generations in the small village. It also made him disliked by the younger.  
  
"Mother!" Merlin cried as he dragged a semiconscious Legolas through the wooden doorway.  
  
Esema put down the dough in her floury fingers hurriedly and helped her son as they laid the elf down upon her large bed.  
  
The warm homespun family duvet sewn by decades of their family was wrapped around the stranger and Merlin started to remove the armour to assess the wounds when a sleepy groan alerted them to Legolas waking up.  
  
"Mani?" [what?] Legolas asked in elvish his voice husky with sleep.  
  
"Don't worry," Merlin said calmly with a soft smile and a gentle voice. "You're safe now."  
  
Esema tutted as she inspected the feet torn to shreds. The entire sole was covered in dried blood. "What's this un been doing?" she asked.  
  
Merlin nodded and smoothed back the dark golden hair to reveal a jagged cut. Darting out of the room, he filled a bowl with rainwater that was collected in a trough underneath the gutter. Merlin wetted his fingers and started to bathe the head.  
  
Esema did the same thing with the feet until the pain made Legolas gasp in agony. Her rough mother's hands were swift but not the most gentle. "Shush!" she told him and Legolas' pleas immediately quietened to whimpers.  
  
The young boy had musician's hands. Long and nimble, they parted Legolas' hair and soon they had placed a compress on the wound. Merlin noticed that already the blood was beginning to clot.  
  
"He's an elf isn't he?" Merlin wondered out loud.  
  
"Of course he is! No one -not even the Roherim- have such blonde hair," Esema said. "And such blue eyes."  
  
Legolas' blue eyes in question were scanning the room urgently; a slightly panicked look was on his face. "W-where am?" he whispered.  
  
"You're in Ithilien, lad," she replied and fluffed the pillows behind his head before pushing him down slightly. "Now rest. You need your strength to heal."  
  
Legolas' feet were bound in bandages and Esema was worried to see a slight stain of blood on them. The red liquid was soaking the material. She hoped it would stop soon. "Merlin, come on, the cows need milking." Esema got up her spine cracking.  
  
In her early fifties, a lifetime of toil on even the lush ground of Ithilien had left Esema was back problems. She wouldn't let anyone near her though, not even Merlin.  
  
She walked out of the room and into the field.  
  
Merlin remained perched lightly on the edge of the bed staring at Legolas.  
  
He leant over the elf his silky hair the colour of mud brushing Legolas' pale skin. Merlin had an angular face with high cheekbones, alabaster skin unusual among the people who spent all their time outside and bright eyes the colour of grass.  
  
"What's your name?" Merlin asked shyly, slightly disconcerted by the prince's piercing gaze.  
  
"Legolas," he replied honestly. There was an air about the young man in front of him that was completely trusting and friendly.  
  
"Merlin."  
  
"What were you doing in our field?" Merlin asked.  
  
"Its a story that I am not willing to confide you with. It is not an insult, but I have seen things that would have made a grown man recoil," Legolas said his eyes wide with a haunting fear.  
  
For some reason, the boy felt a shiver travel up his spine and cause the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "You ought to sleep," he advised standing up.  
  
Legolas nodded, unwilling to admit that after his experiences, he found himself scared of the dark.  
  
Merlin looked out of the window. The sun was setting and casting a pinkish golden glow over the land. Esema was herding the cows into the barn for milking. "If you need anything just call!" Merlin cried after him as he ran outside to join his mother.  
  
The elf curled himself into a little ball underneath the covers relishing in the warmth and comfort he found there, then he kept his eyes open and refused sleep until finally it found him and Legolas drifted off into the relaxing glades of elven sleep.  
  
~  
  
Legolas rested in Esema's house for a further year and gradually he grew strength to start helping them to work.  
  
For some reason Merlin found that he was reluctant to return to his family and friends. A frantic look washed over Legolas' face whenever the youngster mentioned going back home.  
  
Legolas had told Merlin about his past and his friends, even about his love for Eldarion. The prince found some enjoyment from teasing Merlin mercilessly with all the details. The man's cheeks blushed red and he put his hands over his mouth in shock. But usually after talking about Eldarion, Legolas became withdrawn and silent.  
  
It usually took some help from Esema to perk him up. If you called insulting his laziness help. The woman was like a tonic to Legolas. Esema always seemed so full of energy, always there ready with a quick comment or jab in general.  
  
Merlin was so unlike her. So placid, easy to embarrass and quietly determined. He had plans of leaving the farm and travelling to Minas Tirith to see whether his skills could be used in the Healing Houses.  
  
The village seemed to be fascinated by having an elf in it and it took all Legolas' persuasive talents to stop them from instantly running to the next town and bragging about him.  
  
Legolas could hardly walk down the street and to the market without being stopped. Esema learnt to never send Legolas to bakery for a ten-minute journey turned into a several hour one. The prince could just not refuse those who wanted to converse with him.  
  
You would think that after a while the villagers would get bored of him. They never did. Legolas remained somewhat of an enigma. He never answered the questions about where he came from and why.  
  
Legolas had told Merlin about his experiences to some extent though some areas were slightly patchy. The young boy was struck breathless when he heard that he had the fabled Dragonslayer living under his roof!  
  
He had also told him with some trepidation about being killed and about standing at the Halls of Mandos. Merlin had initially not believed Legolas but as he grew to know the elf more, he knew that he was not lying.  
  
The prince found favour with Esema as well. He had a soothing manner that calmed the cows during milking and he was a reliable worker.  
  
One day that calmness in Ithilien was disturbed a sound. Of all things; a horn.  
  
Legolas threw the book he was reading to the floor at the sound of a distant hunting horn. It was calling the hunters back, saying that the meat had been killed. Everything in Legolas' system revolted against the idea of hunting. He had known men had a great fondness with the blood sports. They ignored the pleas of the elves with smirks and knowing nodding of the head.  
  
The elves have a great affinity with nature and the young elfling had almost felt the pain of a mighty young stag of the same age when he had once watched the men from Laketown on such an expedition.  
  
This horn was different. The clear ringing of it through the landscape signalled a quality of it that only the horn makers of Gondor could rival.  
  
And what Gondorians would be hunting in Ithilien but.... the King himself accompanied by the Steward.  
  
Something deep inside Legolas drove his long limbs to run out of the farm building, Merlin swiftly behind him, curious at what made his flighty friend get up and run.  
  
The man watched as Legolas climbed up onto a fence with agility that would make a dancer jealous. He stood there, perfectly balanced and with one long hand, shaded his eyes from the sun. He watched as a party of riders made their way out of the wood.  
  
The proud horses trotted through the small stream, their heads held up high triumphantly. The hounds barked and scampered around the horses' hooves deliberately trying to get in the way. Everyone seemed to be full of the hunting spirit.  
  
Sat on a white stallion that tossed his mane self-satisfied, was King Elessar. He still mourned privately for his friend, but the nightmares that only Arwen knew of, had gone. His wounds caused at Legolas' passing were healed.  
  
Next to him, more solemn than all the others was Eldarion, being groomed into the role of King. He had a small beard on his chin and held himself differently. Eldarion accepted his role as heir to the throne now. Legolas' absence was a constant ache. He knew that he would never love again, but hoped he was a good enough actor to make everyone believe that he adored his Queen. In his heart, Eldarion still loved Legolas greatly.  
  
The prince was looking forward to seeing the latest addition to the Royal Court: a baby. Undomiel had gotten with child and was even more radiant and joyous than anyone remembered. Eldarion would have a small brother or sister!  
  
He sniffed slightly as the smell of deer meat wafted past him. It smelt horrible and raw at this moment, but he was always partial to a bit of venison.  
  
Eldarion noticed that he had fallen behind slightly from his position next to his father and Faramir. The Steward was also looking forward to the birth of his second son. Maybe the two would be friends, Eldarion mused and urged his horse on.  
  
For some reason that Eldarion didn't know, his horse took this as a signal to gallop and she ran past the small group and started thundering through the meadow. Ahead Eldarion could see a fence. He should have turned right a while back but his horse continued on.  
  
Let her run, he decided. She deserves it.  
  
The man frowned when he saw a willowy figure on the fence. She was wearing a white shirt that billowed out around a slender frame and she had....  
  
"By the Valar," Eldarion whispered hoarsely. It was no woman.  
  
As he drew near, he recognized that figure. Deceptively lithe and lissome. The same golden blonde hair... no it couldn't be! It couldn't be!  
  
He rubbed his hands over his eyes quickly and blinked several times, but the image in front of him remained the same.  
  
That same supple body that he had held in his arms one frozen night in Rohan. The same rosebud lips that parted slightly revealing pearly teeth when he slept. The same pointed ears that made him quiver uncontrollably when touched. The same deep blue eyes that hid so much emotion.  
  
And oh god... the same untangled, unsnarled, unblemished shining hair!  
  
It was.... it had to be... Legolas!  
  
~  
  
Eldarion dropped to the ground, not watching as his mare galloped back across the meadow, hooves pounding the soft ground.  
  
His eyes were fixed on Legolas who still stood on the fence. "No.... it can't be!" Eldarion cried.  
  
Legolas smiled slowly and jumping down without making the grass bend at all beneath his weight, ran towards Eldarion his arms outstretched.  
  
When he reached the man he stood there, waiting to be hugged back.  
  
But Eldarion backed away, his eyes wide and unbelieving. "No," he said his breath coming in ragged breaths. "You can't be real- I'm seeing ghosts!"  
  
All his previous rational thoughts were thrown out the window as Legolas ran at his lover. Eldarion was the only thing keeping him sane... without him, Legolas might as well die.  
  
Meanwhile Eldarion had his dreams and wildest hopes accomplished but somehow it seemed wrong. Legolas was dead. How could he be here? Some evil magic or trick was being played upon him and he didn't want it to happen. So Eldarion did what seemed reasonable. He ran.  
  
The man ran back to his horse and shouted at her to gallop. When he rejoined the group he told them nothing about Legolas. Elessar looked suspicous, however he said no more.  
  
The elf watched through rapidly blurring eyes as the horse bearing his love rode away. Legolas had seen too many backs turned on him. He couldn't handle it and broke down into tears.  
  
He dropped to the ground, his knees cushioned by the soft grass.  
  
Merlin stepped forward uncertainly and placed one hand on Legolas' shoulder. He was surprised immensely when Legolas pulled it towards him and then when Merlin knelt down, wrapped his long arms around the young man and hugged him tight.  
  
A shocked look was on his face as Merlin gently rubbed Legolas' back as you do with a child that needs comforting. All traces of the formidable warrior that Merlin knew of, disappeared when Legolas wept like an infant who has lost his favourite toy.  
  
Merlin kissed the top of Legolas' head and sat there until finally the prince had stopped crying. Then he took one trembling hand and led him back inside.  
  
~ 


	15. A Return

Chapter Fifteen: A Return  
  
Realisation came to Merlin one day that the time had finally come for him to abandon the village that had been his home for nineteen years. The weedy young man had returned to the farmhouse one night with tears on his pale skin as well as swiftly blooming purple bruises.  
  
He had been the victim of a tavern brawl outside the local pub. The young men all doomed to a life of hard labour on the farms (though obliviously unaware of the restrictions of it) had all had too much to drink and had picked on Merlin. He was something strange to them.  
  
The scraggy pale kid with dark hair that hung around his chin in uncombed silky waves and the bright green eyes that peeked out beneath his fringe. He was only seen outside when he was helping his mother. Most of the time he was helping the sick and injured.  
  
They just struck out at him until the proprietor of the pub, hearing the brawl, shooed them around a spade. Merlin had got up brushed himself down his eyes steady but his body shaking with shock. He thanked the landlord and then ran away from the scene, his lanky frame disappearing into the night.  
  
Legolas had been the first one to the door, hearing Merlin's sobs many metres away. Behind him was Esema. The elf was pushed to the side as the mother helped her son inside and started cleaning the wounds.  
  
Legolas felt strangely left out as all Merlin's attention was focused on telling Esema what has happened. He stood in the doorframe for nearly ten minutes and was about to leave when he heard his name called.  
  
Esema walked past him and gave the prince a quick smile that was more sympathetic than normal. She squeezed his shoulder briefly before returning to her bedroom.  
  
The duvets that Esema had piled upon him swamped Merlin. Legolas stifled a chuckle and walked to where Merlin sat looking at him mournfully.  
  
"Oh Legolas," he said with a wistful sigh. "I wish I could have defended myself against them like you would have. But all I could do was sit there as blow after blow came."  
  
Legolas' face twisted into a momentary expression of pain as he remembered a time when he had been forced to just lay there helpless and vulnerable. The brilliant and skilled warrior of Mirkwood, one of the famed Fellowship of the Ring, could not defend himself as he was struck repeatedly. And he could not stop what was happening in his own mind.  
  
He was not something to be admired so.  
  
"Not even I could have taken such a beating," Legolas said ruefully. "There was nothing you could have done."  
  
"Legolas I want to leave," Merlin's face suddenly brightened and he clutched Legolas' hand tightly.  
  
"I want to leave all this behind and travel!"  
  
"Where would you go?" Legolas asked.  
  
"To Gondor- Minas Tirith- there would be a lot of call for healers there."  
  
"What about your mother, will you just let her struggle on her own?"  
  
"I will return," Merlin said earnestly. "I could never leave her. Legolas?" his voice dropped lower and became almost confidential. "Will you be my guide?"  
  
Merlin was hoping desperately that Legolas would have forgotten about Eldarion enough to return to the home of his friends.  
  
"Minas Tirith?" the elf repeated weakly. "I-I don't think so. Merlin you need your sleep."  
  
Briskly Legolas tucked the covers in and left the room. Suddenly it had become awfully cold Merlin noticed.  
  
~  
  
The sound was almost unperceivable, so soft was it. Merlin lifted his head from the pillows reluctantly and gently placed his feet on the cold wooden floor and walked to the window.  
  
The moonlight bathed the field that was now free of cows, in a ghostly white light. The cows had been gathered in and were sleeping in the barn. It was predicted that the night would be a frosty one.  
  
Merlin's breath steamed up the window and he brushed it away with his sleeve. Dancing under the starry, black sky was a tall and graceful figure.  
  
The younster swiftly grabbed a tunic and pair of boots and putting them on, padded out of the front door and around the back of the building to the field.  
  
The song could barely be heard over the sound of the grass swaying in the cold wind.  
  
Legolas seemed not to be aware of the bitter temperature for he wore only a simple homespun white shirt that had belonged to Esema's husband and a pair of trousers. His feet were bare as they skipped over the damp ground.  
  
His melody was simply in tune but hauntingly beautiful.  
  
"To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying, The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying. West, west away, the round sun is falling. Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling, The voices of my people that have gone before me? I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me; For our days are ending and our years failing. I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing. Long are the waves on the Last Shore calling, In Eressëa, in Elvenhome that no man can discover, Where the leaves fall not: land of my people for ever!"  
  
His face was alight with happiness as he sung the lyrics that had imprinted themselves into his mind. He was so caught up in the moment that he didn't heard Merlin approach and jumped slightly when his name was called.  
  
"What are you doing?" Merlin hissed.  
  
Legolas beamed widely. "Beautiful, beautiful Merlin," he sang happily and catched the man's wrists, pulled him into the dance.  
  
They spun around. Or rather Legolas spun, Merlin was dragged around also. "Everything's so simple!" Legolas cried, his cheeks rosy from the exercise.  
  
Merlin tried to pull away but Legolas' grasp on his wrists was too tight. Finally he gave up with a sigh and danced as well.  
  
The elf prince was giddy with moonlight and starlight. That night everything seemed so simple, perfect.  
  
"Merlin, I'm going to sail away!" Legolas laughed breathlessly. "I'm going to sail back to Valinor!"  
  
"No!" Merlin protested and stopped dancing. "You can't."  
  
The moment deflated and the prince also stopped and stood staring at Merlin. "Why not?" he asked in a quiet voice that already knew the answer.  
  
"Because.... I need you," Merlin whispered. "I need to you take me to Minas Tirith. From there, you can go where you like."  
  
The silly smile returned to Legolas' face and he embraced the young man that was like a brother to him in the past year. "Thank you Merlin," was all he said.  
  
Merlin nodded and was glad that Legolas could not see the tears that were starting to trickle down his face. He had grown to love Legolas immensely. The fiercly independant elf who every so often needed a shoulder to cry on and a warm hug of support. Merlin had been all of that, and would willingly be that for the rest of his life as long as it meant that Legolas stayed with him.  
  
He wished that Esema could be more of a friend than a mother, but that was not her way. He knew that and did not regret it so much. He needed a friend.  
  
Merlin had watched jealously for many years as couples walked past, laughing and talking. Everyone else it seemed, had friends. Except from him.  
  
And then this strange, battered and weary elf had literally fallen into his life. The first few days had been awkward, Legolas had been reclusive and unwilling to talk. Then he had opened up like a flower under the sun. He told Merlin many things. He told Merlin about the outside world in such vivid detail that the man felt that he had wandered the paths of Mirkwood, passed beneath the boughs of Fangorn and climbed the lofty peaks of the Misty Mountains.  
  
And now, Legolas was planning to leave him. Leave Merlin alone and friendless. He had thought secretly that all of this was too good to be true. Legolas deserved some happiness even if it meant sacrfising's Merlins, it would be done.  
  
'Put on a brave face,' Merlin told himself.  
  
He pulled away and smiled at his beaming friend.  
  
"Come, you'll need all your strength if we're to travel to Gondor," Legolas said and this time he took Merlin's hand and led him back inside.  
  
~ Twenty days later: Gondor- the White City~  
  
King Elessar the Elfstone studied the pair in front of him with some scrutiny it must be said. They were travellers from Ithilien or so they said.  
  
One was a young boy clothed in the down-to-earth fabrics that showed that he worked on a farm. He was lanky with sharp, angular features and was about five foot something.  
  
Standing above him was a tall man, he had a cloak around his body and covering his head, but Elessar sensed that he was also willowy in frame. His dark cloak was splattered with mud from the journey as was the boy's.  
  
"Why do you request a meeting with the King?" Elessar asked. His servant had said that it was an urgent message and that he should take it.  
  
"The boy wishes to train as a healer," the taller said bluntly and Elessar was slightly ataken back by his tone.  
  
It was cold and disrespectful, but the King could sense undercurrents of melancholy sadness in it.  
  
"Do not stand in front of me hooded so," Elessar said frostily. "Show yourself."  
  
"No."  
  
"No?!" Aragorn cried with a smile. This man was as stubborn as an elf. Not for a second did he harbour thoughts that it could have been. All the elves were either over the Sea or currently residing in his barracks alongside his soldiers.  
  
"And who do you think you are to deny the King of Gondor?"  
  
Legolas had to bite down hard on his tongue to stop the answer from replying to the goading question. "No one milord," he replied humbly. "Please, let me have my hood up."  
  
Elessar nodded though he was burning to ask why. "So why should I recruit this boy?"  
  
"He is well trained in the art of healing and has a vast knowledge of herbs," Legolas said.  
  
Merlin tilted his head up and smiled gratefully at Legolas.  
  
"Shall we put your skills to the test?" the King said getting up and opening his study door. He led them out of the main part of the palace and into the Houses of Healing.  
  
"There is a small girl with an unknown fever, we cannot reduce it," Elessar said gesturing towards the girl lying asleep.  
  
Merlin coughed at the fumes in the room. Candles were piled in the room, incense burned. They were used frequently in Gondorian healing methods. The room was swetleringly hot.  
  
"I would have thought the healer King would have more sense than this," Merlin said in a low voice and started to put out all the candles. He removed the curtains from the window and opened it so that the cold breeze swirled around the room. He took the jug that was slightly green from all the powdered herbs stirred into it, and upturned it out the window.  
  
It splashed on the ground outside. "Get fresh water and prepare a broth for her, she needs all the strength she can to fight the sickness," Merlin declared and pulled some of the covers of her. She shivered and tugged the remaining one tighter about her.  
  
Elessar nodded, a slight smile playing around his lips. It had been a long time since he had someone stand up to him, in fact it was probably not since his and Legolas' arguments. His heart grew sad momentarily before he turned his gaze to Merlin.  
  
"I will talk to my Master Healer -Khan- about the boy. You may study with him. Khan is always grateful for new students, you are lucky, currently he has no apprentices." Elessar smiled benevolently. "Go to my Steward of the Palace and ask for a room nearing the Healing Houses, tell him that Elessar sent you."  
  
Merlin nodded gratefully and with another quick glance at Legolas, darted out of the room.  
  
"What about you, Taraer?" [lofty one] the King asked with a laugh.  
  
Legolas' heart missed a beat at the sound of elvish across Elessar's tongue and he wished dearly to reveal himself and bury himself in those arms that cared more for the touch of a loved one than a sword or bow. How would Estel react though? Would he be repulsed as Eldarion?  
  
The elf felt tears pricking in his eyes and ran out of the room. As he ran, the delicate cloth of his elven cloak got caught on the rough edge of the doorframe. Legolas did not notice as the cloak dropped from his shoulders and onto the ground.  
  
Elessar's mouth opened as he watched the golden-haired figure that haunted his nightmares ran down the corridor.  
  
"Legolas," he whispered.  
  
~  
  
The prince had to force his feet to pound down on the floor. He nearly slipped occasionally on the wood that had been polished until it was shiny. But at the last moment he regained his balance and carried on with a vengeance.  
  
He drew near the large doors that led down and out of the palace. Standing in front of it was two burly looking Gondorian guards.  
  
"Stop that elf!" Elessar shouted behind him.  
  
My, my, Legolas thought with an inward smile. The years of rich living had not altered the same swift, loping run that had earned Elessar the name of Strider.  
  
The guard's spears lowered down and made an 'x' shape against the door.  
  
Legolas changed direction quickly and fleet as a deer, headed to the right and to the dining hall. There was a shriek of surprise as he hurtled straight past a maid carrying a tray of food. In front of him Legolas saw Arwen Undomiel clutching her stomach, her face was paler than snow.  
  
"Legolas," she gasped and fainted. The gentleman in Legolas wanted to run back and apologise but gallantry wasn't on the top of his list. His chief priority was to get out of Gondor. It had been a mistake in coming. He would go straight back to Ithilien and buy one of the small boats and sail across the sea.  
  
Shamefully, Legolas realised that he had forgotten Gimli. The sturdy and bluntly honest dwarf who had so faithfully wandered the world with him. He really ought to tell Gimli what had happened.  
  
Gimli would be glad to see him back. He would stop you from going across the sea, a little voice in his head whispered.  
  
"No!" Legolas cried. It seemed that everyone was against him finally having what he most wanted. What he most desired. Or so he thought.  
  
Was passing over the Sea something he wanted more than anything else? Truly, was it? The Sealonging was more of a desire. What he really wanted was Eldarion.  
  
Legolas had been through death for that man. Why didn't Eldarion want him back? Why hadn't he ran into those outstretched arms gratefully and sob thanks to Mandos?  
  
Maybe the sound of the Sea would help his confused mind. Legolas headed for the French windows (A.N: I know you wouldn't have French windows per se.) He fumbled with the catch just as Elessar' heavy footsteps signalled his arrival.  
  
Legolas flung them open just in time and took the balcony wall in one leaping bound. His body was slightly woozy from all the emotions rushing about it and the elf stumbled slightly and cried out in pain as his ankle cracked beneath him.  
  
The prince fell to the ground on the soft grass and beat the ground with his fists in anger. He tried to sit up and run again, but heavy hands pushed him back down again.  
  
"Remain seated Legolas," Elessar said softly. "Look at me."  
  
Legolas stubbornly stared ahead, his jaw set and his eyes stony.  
  
"Legolas please," there was a desperate note in the man's voice. "I wish to see that it is my old friend that is sitting before me."  
  
That melted Legolas' steely resolve into lots of small blobs of liquid metal and he turned to meet Elessar's grey eyes. He was surprised to find them watery.  
  
"Ai, Legolas, it is you!" Estel choked and threw his arms around the elf. "Legolas, Legolas," he sobbed into the startled archer's hair. The King pulled back and stared deep into the blue eyes caring not for the astonished onlookers.  
  
"You lead a charmed life my friend."  
  
"Not quite," Legolas said bitterly. "I paid for it."  
  
"I don't care how you did it, I'm just glad to see you back amongst us again Legolas." Elessar leant forward and placed a kiss on both marble cheeks and then placed his hands over the spots he had just kissed.  
  
~  
  
Merlin smiled at the sight of the reunited friends. He was overjoyed to find someone who cherished Legolas as much as he did. Legolas deserved to find some happiness.  
  
If only Eldarion shared the same feelings as his father. If only. 


	16. Changes

Chapter Sixteen: Changes  
  
~  
  
Elessar could scare believe the sight in front of him.  
  
Legolas was sitting in the large chair sipping at a glass. He had refused the whisky that the King had poured into his own glass, saying: "I don't like what alcohol does to me."  
  
So Elessar had called for a servant to fetch some juice. Of course Legolas had done the customary thing with him and refused the help saying that he shouldn't be making things difficult. After some impressive quick thinking on his behalf, the servant made up an excuse why he had to, and served Legolas.  
  
He looked at his friend critically. Although to most, Legolas looked exactly the same, Elessar noticed a couple of changes about his lifelong companion.  
  
The deep blue eyes seemed to be full of so much more wisdom. Legolas was always fairly wise for his kind, but lacking in some of the intelligence that came through experience. The eyes that now observed him were sadder as if knowing some dark secret.  
  
All elves emanate a sense of innocence. Though they have seen many ages of the world, they always seemed to pure and untainted by anything evil. Legolas seemed to be missing that slightly. And his aura was pensive and melancholy. Gone was the bright and cheerful elf that refused to let anything trouble him.  
  
In his place was a brooding prince full of insecurities about his friends and himself.  
  
Elessar knew instinctively that now was not the best time to ask what had happened, and so he went for a safer area. "Merlin, the boy, he seems very talented, he will fit in well."  
  
There was no response. Maybe the slightest of nods or grunt, but Aragorn's mortal hearing could not perceive of it. Legolas' eyes lowered and he stared into his cup. He was very tense. The muscles in his shoulders were contracted and ready to flee at any time.  
  
"Please Legolas, no harm will come of you here," Elessar said in what he hoped was a soothing voice.  
  
Legolas looked up with a weak smile and nodded, and then he seemed to relax slightly. "I am sorry Estel," he apologised almost shamefully. "I must be a terrible guest."  
  
"Nay, nay!" Elessar protested and reached forward to place on hand on Legolas' thigh. The elf winced and drew away.  
  
"Legolas?"  
  
"Tis an old wound, nothing more," Legolas said hurriedly.  
  
The King frowned but said nothing more.  
  
"So did you find out why there was all the orc attacks?" the archer asked, trying to look attentive and hide the fact that he was merely making conversation to fill the silence that had fallen between the two.  
  
"Gladrau"  
  
At the mention of the name Legolas stiffened and briefly lowered his head before raising it again and nodding for Elessar to continue.  
  
"Evil flocked to him like a banner, Gladrau was commanding them to attack all the countries. He thought that might encourage you to come and challenge him. That was as much we could get out of the orcs," Aragorn finished sadly. "Well at least he's dead and gone," the man said. He instantly regretted his words.  
  
"Oh no Estel," Legolas said in a low voice. "Death is only the beginning."  
  
Those words chilled Elessar to the core of his being. He never knew why though, Legolas never told him what happened. Only that he was refused entry to the Halls of Mandos.  
  
"Legolas, you love my son," there was no question in Elessar's sentence, as random as it was.  
  
Legolas slowly looked up, his mouth open slightly and he blushed. Then Legolas looked down into his cup again. "Yes."  
  
"I believe that Eldarion still loves you," Elessar said.  
  
He had known of his son and Legolas' relationship. It was obvious by the way that Eldarion had mourned the elf's death. The prince had thought his father hadn't heard him as he murmured words of love and promise to the deaf ears.  
  
As much as Elessar had protested, Eldarion had got completely drunk for nearly a week running and without the King noticing, each night he had bedded some poor soul. The receiver of the treatment was ecstatic for the Prince of Gondor and heir to the Throne to be paying them such attention.  
  
It didn't matter what sex. Men were used in the same way as women; Eldarion disregarded his father's words about faithfulness and drowned his sorrow in making mindless love.  
  
Elessar had only found out after six days of lateness to council, he had knocked on Eldarion's door. A dishevelled and pale Eldarion answered it. Behind him on the bed was a naked male servant.  
  
The prince had been severely reprimanded and all wine and beer was not allowed near him. Eldarion from that day on had thrown himself into learning about his role as King. He seemed to acknowledge that Legolas was dead and that he would have to take up the mantle after his father died.  
  
"Really?" Legolas' face was alight.  
  
"He tries to hide it, but I'm sure of it," the King assured him. "Legolas you must talk to him, he will be absolutely ecstatic!"  
  
Legolas shook his head.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
The elf sighed and began to tell the story of that day when Eldarion had found Legolas in Ithilien.  
  
~  
  
King Elessar had taken his sleepy older friend to a chamber set away from the royal wings and had tucked Legolas in.  
  
The ankle had not been broken only sprained and Elessar advised no more chasing around palaces. He had managed to elicit a smile for that and had closed the door quietly after him.  
  
Legolas slept deeply for the rest of the afternoon until a soft voice awoke him.  
  
Arwen Undomiel radiant in her ninth month of pregnancy was seated in a wicker chair nearby and singing a song in elvish. It was like a balm to Legolas' tired and lethargic limbs. He sat up with a shy smile and was instantly rewarded by a warm, motherly embrace from the she-elf that he had known since they were young.  
  
"Legolas, cormamin lindua ele lle," [Legolas, my heart sings to see thee] the Evenstar said in her soft whispering voice. "Do not worry, if the time comes, you will be accepted to Mandos again, but first you must patch things up with my son."  
  
Legolas nodded, she spoke the truth. There was two ways about this. Either he did something so drastic that it made Eldarion stop loving him forever, or he got back together with him.  
  
"I picked out some clothes for you." Arwen stood up and placed the items on his bed. "I'll leave you to get changed, call for a servant if you need help walking to the Hall."  
  
She patted his shoulder.  
  
"Arwen, could you redo the binding around my ankle?" Legolas asked just as she was about to leave the room.  
  
It was slightly too tight and Legolas feared that it might cut the circulation in his foot off.  
  
Arwen found the foot in question underneath the covers and undid the bandage before gasping slightly at the old scars that marred the bottom of his foot. They went crisscross over the pale flesh, ugly and jagged.  
  
The elf found his cheeks turning hot and looked away as Evenstar bound it looser and tied it up again.  
  
"Legolas, whatever you had to go through to get here," she said. "I'm glad of it."  
  
The look on her face was as sincere as Elessar's. Arwen did not know Legolas quite as closely as her husband, but what she lacked in closeness, she made up for in time. She had known of the young prince of Mirkwood for thousands of years.  
  
flashback end flashback  
  
Arwen left the room silently leaving Legolas on his own. He fingered the clothes that had been brought for him. They were so fine and felt so smooth against his skin unlike the rough cottons he had lived in for the previous year.  
  
He slid his peasant clothes off and put on the new ones. First over his thin torso came a silken garment that wrapped around him and was tied at the waist. Below that was a pair of black satin trousers that contrasted vividly with the white silk. They were trimmed with silver thread that had been woven in lovingly.  
  
Once had had put them on, Legolas stood up slightly wobbly, avoiding putting weight on his ankle. He looked in the mirror and gasped slightly at the miraculous transformation.  
  
Truly he looked the Prince of Elves. The light cloth unburdened his slender shoulders and he seemed to grow even taller. The flimsy material that moved with his movements only enhanced his long legs.  
  
His golden hair shone like the sun but alas, Legolas could not hide the deep turmoil in his dark eyes. He hoped that none could see the slight trembling of his limbs beneath their encasement.  
  
Legolas opened the door to his room and with a deep breath strode out. He forgot his ankle and cursed as he fell to the floor, the pain shooting through his entire leg and making him feel dizzy. Immediately the guards were at his side and helping him up. The elf thought about pushing them away stubbornly and limping to the hall.  
  
What an entrance, he thought with a crooked smile. Legolas the Dragonslayer tripped over and crawling along on the floor. He let them support his elbow and hobbled towards the hall.  
  
~  
  
Legolas forced himself to nod politely as questions were directed at him and forced him to answer them civilly. That was until Elessar, finally finishing his conversation with some politician, saw the exasperated look on his friend's face and courteously but bluntly stopped all further questions.  
  
Legolas mouthed his thanks and sighed, leaning back in his chair. Suddenly the room seemed so hot and was it just him, or was everyone talking so much louder?  
  
Thankfully, Eldarion wasn't dining with them. He was currently visiting Faramir in Ithilien. It was ironic Legolas thought, when Legolas was Gondor, Eldarion was in Ithilien.  
  
Maybe not so ironic.  
  
Then again he thought with a silly smile, he never really got irony.  
  
Elessar frowned slightly as Legolas grinned inanely at nothing much. The conversation was not remotely funny; it was about the shortage of iron in the Western Lands. Why was he smiling? Then the King's eyes saw the empty glass of what had been wine in Legolas' sweaty hands.  
  
Elves were known for having a partiality to wines, which they boasted, exceeded the human's weak versions. Far from it. The elves had a much more subtle pallet and so their wines were indeed weaker. This brew was fairly old. The King raised his own glass and sniffed it. It was strong.  
  
Legolas had probably had a couple of glasses.  
  
Elessar knew that the archer could never quite handle wine. He felt his cheeks growing hotter at one incident with a drunken elf. Legolas was rather funny when drunk, but now was not such a time. He didn't want the prince to publicly humiliate himself.  
  
"Legolas, you're drunk," Aragorn hissed in the ear closest to him.  
  
The elf turned another silly look on his face. His cheeks were pinker than normal a sure fire way to tell whether Legolas was intoxicated. "God Legolas, what do you think you're doing?"  
  
"Cheering myself up," Legolas said and then hiccupped. He placed his hand over his mouth bashfully and giggled. "Pardon me."  
  
"By the Valar, that's not the way to do it," Elessar said and rolled his eyes. "Come on, back to your room."  
  
He quickly whispered something to Arwen and stood up. Luckily not many people noticed, as there was a diversion at the end of the table. The servers started bringing out the deserts. There were whistles and claps of admiration as a large rearing horse made out of spun sugar was laid on the table.  
  
Elessar helped Legolas out of his seat and the minute he let go of the elf, he dropped to the floor. Legolas sat on the ground, his long limbs outstretched and a pathetic look on his face. "Legless Legolas," he explained.  
  
The King nodded and helped Legolas up again and together they staggered back to his room.  
  
~ 


	17. Hope

Chapter Seventeen: Hope  
  
Elessar sat in contented silence listening to the whistling of the birds and the swaying of the trees. He heard someone sit next to him and tilted his head slightly until the golden strands caught by the wind told him who it was.  
  
"Good morning Legolas," he said softly.  
  
"Quel amrun Estel," [good morning] Legolas replied in elvish. He sighed sadly and slumped slightly in his seat. "I'm sorry for what happened yesterday."  
  
"That's fine," the King answered. "Its only understandable seeing as the place you were put in. People asking you all those awfully personal questions and not to mentio"-  
  
Legolas cut him off and faced him, the blue eyes sorrowful and yet slightly angry. "Its not understandable at all, I was disgraceful!" he spat. "I should be representing the elves not making us seem like a bunch of common drunks. My feelings should not have even come into the context. I am older than to let my emotions get the better of me."  
  
The King stared at his friend sympathetically. "Not even you my old friend can possibly hope to hide your sentiment after such an experiance. Lesser men would have died from what you went through, but you Legolas... you survived!" he grapsed Legolas' shoulders tightly and shook him slightly to emphasis his point.  
  
"To what degree?" Legolas asked mournfully turning away and standing up. He walked over to a tree and ran his hands over the bark. Estel noticed that he was once again dressed in the humble farmer's clothes.  
  
"I should have chosen death. For sure, I have lost Eldarion forever. And I fear that now the Halls of Mandos will not be open to me ever again. I will remain, bound to Eldarion until the last leaves fall on this world. I should never have allowed myself to love one such as him. I thought I had more sense then that." Legolas rested his head against the tree, the mighty oak sharing with the young elf's misery as it swayed and creaked.  
  
His thin frame shook as he started sobbing.  
  
Elessar was moved by his friend's sudden outburst and quickly put his hands on Legolas' back to gently remind the archer of his prescence. Legolas spun around and gratefully fell into the King's embrace.  
  
Estel lead the elf back to the chair and sitting on it, let Legolas remain seated on his lap, burying his head in the smooth locks of the man. He could feel the salty tears on his neck and Elessar murmured soothing elvish words into the pointed ears.  
  
When the shaking had stopped, Legolas drew back, his cheeks pink with embarressment at breaking down. Elessar had been surprised to say the least at seeing the tears that Legolas had shed.  
  
He always knew there was more to Legolas than the elf liked to aknowledge. Elessar had only seen a couple of sides to the elven warrior. He had seen a tender father figure and a lover, but this emotional wreck was a side that had only been unearthed.  
  
"What will you do then if you cannot escape your doom?" Elessar enquired.  
  
"I will leave Middle-earth," Legolas said. "I will join my father in the Undying Lands. There at least I ought to find peace."  
  
Elessar's hard grey eyes softened and he cupped Legolas' silky cheek. "You will leave us, little one?"  
  
At the sound of his nickname Legolas felt the tears springing unbidden to his eyes. "I think I have to. I will not ruin any more lives with my own misery. Those people in there," he gestured in roughly the direction of the great hall. "They think I am a hero. Do not disapoint them, tell them that Legolas Greenleaf the Dragonslayer went on one final quest. And from it he will never return."  
  
The pair burst out laughing but the joyful sound was mingled with torment and anguish. "What a pair we must look, crying like children," Elessar laughed.  
  
"And..." Legolas trailed off. There was so very much he wanted to tell everyone. "Tell Merlin that I am finally doing what I dreamt of doing for so many nights. And tell Merlin that I love him dearly and that I hope he becomes a mighty healer one so great that..." he choked and wiped his eyes. "His skill is known throughout the kingdom."  
  
"Legolas, what about Gimli?" Aragorn reminded him of the dwarf.  
  
"Do not tell him that I came back to life. I do not wish him to grieve doubly," Legolas said regretfully. "I do not wish to cause any more pain."  
  
Aragorn found it hard to focus on the shape in front of him, his vision was becoming blurry. He found Legolas' hand though and grapsed it tightly. "I promise you I will do so."  
  
"Thank Arwen for me and tell her that she should be thankful I didn't fall in love with her, because otherwise you two would never be together!" Legolas cried.  
  
"Do you wish me to accompany you to the Havens?"  
  
Legolas shook his head. "No ships sail from the Havens any more. I built a ship in secret in Ithilien. I will sail from there. Besides, I do not think that I would be able to leave you from there."  
  
"What about the elves?" Elessar suddenly remembered of the elves now in his service.  
  
"They may do as they like, if they wish to sail then they may, if not, tell them that Ithilien will still be open to them. Alad will lead them wisely."  
  
Legolas stood up and Elessar stood next to him one tear trickling down his cheek.  
  
"Aa' i'sul nora lanne'lle" [may the wind fill your sails] The King told him and kissed Legolas' cheek.  
  
Legolas nodded and repeated the action. "Aa' menle nauva calen ar' ta hwesta e' ale'quenle." [may thy paths be green and the breeze on thy back]  
  
The elf turned away and his hair caught by the light breeze lifted up into a cloud of golden sunshine. Legolas' fair face was once again smiling through the tears as he whispered: "Estel, amin hiraetha. Amin mela lle." [Estel, I'm sorry. I love you."  
  
Then he walked out of the garden and to the stables. From there he mounted a horse and rode to Ithilien.  
  
Elessar dropped to the ground and wept.  
  
~  
  
Legolas had stopped briefly on his journey to the coast and that was to visit the farm that had been his home for over a year.  
  
Esema had been at the door, a gruff smile on her face. "How's my son doing?" she asked, leading the elf in.  
  
"Fine, already he's been taken under the wing of the King, Merlin will be a brilliant healer," Legolas assured her. "Ma'am, I'm going soon"-  
  
"You're going already?" Esema had tried to hide the regret that came into her voice but it was too late. The lonliness from Legolas' and Merlin's abscence hurt her. She found herself talking to no one in particular and then snapping at herself and mumbling about the first sign of madness, and then she started laughing. It was now more than ever that Esema wished her husband was still around now that the fledglings had left the nest.  
  
She hadn't known the archer for long, one year was as quick as a dragonflies' wing beating to Legolas. For Esema it was an age though. She counted the stray that had stumbled into her world as almost a son.  
  
The prince was a good son at that. Obediant and amusing. He brightened up rainy nights with his melodic voice and entrancing tales of his journeys. The firelight rippling over his features and making the blue eyes seem as dark as the bottom of the Sea. He was a good friend to Merlin. He stuck up for the lad and whenever Esema felt she couldn't reach her son after he had been teased by someone, she could count on Legolas doing it for her.  
  
A part of her had known that Legolas would go soon. He was restless for an elf and he still desired adventure even after all he had been through.  
  
"Aye, I'm going over the Sea," Legolas replied frankly.  
  
"Oh lad," Esema said and held her arms out. Legolas had to bend over so that she could link them around the back of his neck and hug him. He enjoyed her motherly smell and found himself dreaming of Niphredil when she was still alive.  
  
When they pulled away Esema quickly pinched the tip of his ear and Legolas winced, clutched the ear. "What was that for?" he cried.  
  
"Leavin' me all on my own," she answered. "Good luck Legolas."  
  
He smiled fondly at her. "Before I go, there's something I wish to give to you." Legolas pulled out a small bag hidden under his travelling robe. "I know that you won't take it out of sheer stubborness, but its not given to you out of sympathy. Its so that the farm will be kept afloat."  
  
"And so that your mind is at rest, I don't doubt," Esema said with a wicked grin.  
  
"You've seen right through me," Legolas laughed. "I'm incredibly selfish and so that my last deed on the earth is a good one. Take it and spend it wisely Esema."  
  
Legolas left the farmhouse and stood back staring at it with a deep sigh. He would miss this house, he would miss Esema and Merlin. He would miss everything.  
  
He looked up at the stonework on the building and found himself approving it.  
  
"If you want a good stone mason, then go to Rohan. The people of Rohan aren't like you silly elves, they know good stone when they see it."  
  
Legolas bit his lip as he smiled when he remembered Gimli's words to him.  
  
"When did I let you call me Esema?!"  
  
The outraged but still smiling farm woman's cries echoed in his ears as Legolas mounted his horse and rode to the coast.  
  
~  
  
He could see the Sea sparkling in front of him like a bed of sapphires. The sun caught the waves that looked deceptively calm and made the glint. The waves rode towards the shore in small white horses and then finally it lapped onto the beach.  
  
Legolas sighed and shaded his eyes with his hand. He could see a small jetty. The wooden planks had stood up admirably under the barrage of waves. He had hidden the boat in a cave that was in the tall cliffs that spanned one curved of the Bay.  
  
He frowned; he could see a figure sat upon the jetty. It was no fisherman, he could tell by the clothes and by the absence of a fishing rod or any time of equipment. Legolas rode closer and dismounted to walk along the beach.  
  
As he drew nearer, the archer could feel a sense of dread that conflicted with some rejoicing sensation in his heart.  
  
The man was sat cross-legged on the jetty and his dark brown hair was played with by the breeze. He heard the creak of light footsteps on the old wood and spun around, the lifted hair framed his head like a halo.  
  
His mouth opened and his eyes widened.  
  
"Legolas," Eldarion finally said after nearly ten minutes of silence had elapsed. The elf and the man had just stood staring at each other.  
  
Eldarion's eyes flickered over the features that he had carved into his memory. But it was different. The blue eyes that had stared ahead so dully, were now bright and full of turmoil as Legolas gazed at his old lover.  
  
"Eldarion," Legolas replied.  
  
The prince couldn't explain what happened, but something inside his mind suddenly clicked into place. His doubts about Legolas' appearance a couple of months ago faded. This was a real, living, breathing elf. His elf. The feelings of love returned to his heart that had been barren for so long.  
  
Inside Legolas' similar feelings were being stirred. In a series of flashbacks where the wood-elf was stood at the Halls of Mandos, he remembered why he was here, in Middle-earth.  
  
It was not because of his reluctance to die. No. It was because of Eldarion's reluctance to loose his loved one.  
  
Why was Legolas trying to run from such a love? It was impossible. Death could not evade it, the Sea had no chance of shunning it. There was only one thing to do.  
  
Legolas dropped to his knees as they gave way beneath him. He carried on moving forward, crawling on his hands and knees, he made his way until he was face-to-face with Eldarion.  
  
Their faces drew near until their noses were virtually touching. Legolas could feel the man's shallow breathing on his soft cheek and in turn Eldarion could feel the elf's rapid breath on his.  
  
Legolas reached forward one hand and slowly cupped Eldarion's right cheek. "Melamin, nae saian luume'" [my love, it has been too long] he whispered and laid his forehead against Eldarion's.  
  
His head was moved as Eldarion nodded his in consent. "Indeed, too long have you haunted my dreams."  
  
"No more!" Legolas cried desperatley, his eyes were frantic. "No more," he repeated in a softer voice. "You needn't see me only in dreams. Eldarion...." Legolas trailed off, unsure what to say.  
  
"Nay my fair prince," Eldarion said moved at Legolas' innocent words. "I wish you to forgive me first."  
  
"Forgive you for what?" the noble brow was wrinkled slightly in bafflement.  
  
"Doubting you, for not having faith."  
  
"I do not blame you, for who in their right mind would embrace a ghost," Legolas laughed. The look he gave Eldarion almost made the man blush in shame though he knew not why. "Oh, precious Eldarion," he said and wrapped his slender arms around the prince.  
  
"How I've missed you," Eldarion murmured into golden hair as he was pulled into the 'ghost's' embrace. "Legolas, answer me one thing now that I am sure you're alive. How did you return to me? What divine power returned you to me?"  
  
Though Eldarion could not see it, Legolas smiled as he kissed the top of his head. "You," he whispered to the dark head.  
  
"Me?" Eldarion echoed and pulled away shock clearly written over his face.  
  
"You. Because you were not willing to let go of me, I retained a bond from the living world. I could not pass into the Halls of Mandos without breaking this tie. I could live or die. And I...." Legolas kissed the lips that were partly open in a surprised pout.  
  
"Choose life," Eldarion finished breathlessly. "Thank the Valar you did!" he kissed Legolas back.  
  
"The Valar had nothing to do with it," a rather flustered elf prince retorted.  
  
~ Minas Tirith two weeks later~  
  
"Prithee!" Legolas snapped iratley. The man's constant pacing was starting to wind him up.  
  
Eldarion stopped for an instant to stare at his lover with a slight smile.  
  
"I do not think that your father will want to have to import even more of that rare wood for the flooring," Legolas said. The man chuckled and kissed the elf's cheek before ignoring his advice and continuing pacing.  
  
He walked back and forth past one door. Inside it was a dishevelled but glowing Arwen Undomiel, resting after the birth of her second child. A small boy was delivered to the world, screaming and shouting.  
  
"He has the lungs of his father," Arwen said weakly and grasped her husband's hand tightly.  
  
Elessar planted a kiss on his wife's forehead. "Well done," he murmured and watched as the midwife wrapped a fluffy towel around the infant.  
  
Tiny fists pummelled the air and started wailing again. "Estel, please you take him," the Evenstar said. "The birth has wearied me."  
  
Gratefully, she took the cup of water sprinkled with herbs from the nurse and sipped it. "Thank you," she said.  
  
"I'll leave you sir," the nurse said curtsying deeply to the ground. "Would you like me to send in the gentlemen outside?"  
  
Elessar grinned wickedly at Arwen who looked at him disapprovingly. "Do not be so mean to Eldarion, you know how much he wants to see his new brother."  
  
The King sighed softly at having his fun spoilt and nodded at the midwife.  
  
He looked down at the boy in his arms. Already the pink skin was losing some of its heat and Elessar gently stroked the tiny head with one large hand. "So beautiful," Aragorn cried. The child took after his father more than Eldarion. He had the same grey eyes of Numenor and the dark hair.  
  
Elessar's hand brushed past the feeble neck and he stopped. He didn't feel the pulse. The babe was silent and unmoving. "Nurse!" he shouted.  
  
"What?!" Arwen cried sitting bolt upright.  
  
Still carrying the babe, Elessar went to the door and flinging it open bellowed down the hallways: "MIDWIFE!"  
  
Legolas took one look at the still babe and ran fleetly down the hallways after the woman.  
  
"Father?" Eldarion asked, stepping forward.  
  
"He's stopped breathing," Elessar said quietly, his eyes filled with parental concern and worry over the infant.  
  
Eldarion placed his ear over the boy's chest and nodded sadly when he could hear, feel or see no form of breathing.  
  
The King went back into the room and laid the child on the bed where Arwen started crying. Her cheeks were flushed from labour and now her eyes were red with the hot tears.  
  
Legolas' feet pounded the floor as he ran with more urgency than he ever had before. He felt almost like a godfather or an uncle to the unnamed child before of his connection to the parents and the brother. He knew what it was like to loose a sibling. His sister was stillborn.  
  
FlashbackEnd flashback  
  
~  
  
I'm sorry for not reviewing for so long but I've had real problems with publishing this chapter. Thanks for bearing with me.  
  
Anna.  
  
Could you possibly review me now?  
  
Ta. 


	18. Tears and Kisses

I apologise for my absence with this- two chapters- I know there's a problem with the flashback thing but I can't prevent it, so sorry. I don't think its mucked up anything else however.  
  
Anna.  
  
~ Chapter Eighteen: Tears and Kisses  
  
Warning: Major Legolas/ Eldarion cuteness!  
  
"Legolas? Legolas!" Eldarion cried running out of the room, there was a wide smile on his face.  
  
The midwife had managed to retrieve the boy from the shadowy lands near death. She had opened his small mouth and ever so gently blown into it. The pressure was miniscule; it might have just lifted a feather from the ground.  
  
Any more though and the babe's fragile lungs would have exploded.  
  
He looked around for his lover. Eldarion was going to thank Legolas dearly for getting the midwife there in time, and he was also going to ask him whether he had any ideas for the prince's name.  
  
Both parents were ecstatic but they couldn't think of a name so when Eldarion suggested asking Legolas, they had agree. They were sure that their fine elven friend would know something suitable.  
  
Eldarion looked through a window that led down to a courtyard. He saw a solitary figure standing in it. He smiled slightly and bounded down stairs.  
  
~  
  
"Legolas, he's alive!" Eldarion announced and expected the elf to spin around and laugh wildly with relief. But all he received was a slight twist of the head and a rather bitter: "Good."  
  
"Is that all you can say?" the man asked. This was not like Legolas at all. "I have never known an elf to be that inarticulate," Eldarion said, there was humour in his voice. Legolas did not hear it though.  
  
"Obviously you haven't known many elves then!" Legolas spat and stalked away from his lover. His face was impassive and that mask had been lowered again.  
  
"Legolas?" Eldarion asked softly and placed one hand on the elf's shoulders, he found them tensed and knotted. "Relax," he said soothingly and rose up another hand to massage taut muscles.  
  
His hands were batted away and Legolas turned quickly, his blue eyes were cold. "Childbirth, its a bloody miracle isn't it?" he asked. Sarcasm was obvious in his voice. Eldarion did not hear it though as he answered, his face alight: "Its brilliant!"  
  
The archer's mask dropped for a brief instant and Eldarion saw anger flit across Legolas' face. "Get away from me!" the prince snarled and shoving Eldarion away roughly, ran out of the courtyard.  
  
The push had not been that savage, Eldarion if he was better prepared, would have been able to withstand it, but as he was now, he fell to the ground and there he lay wondering what had just happened.  
  
~  
  
Legolas ran to his chambers, his face red with shame at what he had done. Yes, there were conflicting emotions inside his head, but that was no reason to take it out on Eldarion.  
  
He put his hands on either side of his head and fell onto the bed; there he lay sobbing brokenly.  
  
Poor little Tinnu he thought. Childbirth was indeed miraculous for many. However, how could the Valar be so cruel as to give life to a babe before ripping it away before it even had time to first see light, to breath in the fresh air....  
  
In such a beautiful world, how could nature be so merciless?  
  
~  
  
Eldarion walked back shakily to his parent's chambers. The babe was suckling on Arwen's breast and as he walked in, Elessar pulled the child away. "That's enough for you, young prince," the King said with a fond smile. "Sleep."  
  
He laid the already sleepy boy down in his crib and watched until his heavy lids drooped down and the grey eyes were covered into peaceful sleep.  
  
"Did you find Legolas?" Arwen asked.  
  
"Oh yes, I found him," Eldarion tried to chuckle but failed miserably. He put his head against the cool wall and groaned slightly.  
  
"Have you two been arguing?" Elessar queried.  
  
"Yes and no. Legolas snapped at me for no reason," Eldarion explained. "It was something about childbirth... he was saying how it was such a miracle."  
  
Arwen frowned and looked at Estel who nodded understandably. "I should have known the mite's brush with death would have upset Legolas," the King said. "When Legolas was young, his mother gave birth to a little girl... Tinnu I believe they called her..... she was a stillborn. She was already dead when she was delivered."  
  
"I never knew about that," Eldarion said in a quiet voice. "Oh Valar- I've been so heartless!"  
  
With that he fled the room and ran to Legolas' chambers that were next to his own. They were conveniently placed so that there was a door inside the rooms connecting them. It seemed that Elessar had notified the servants of the men's fondness for 'spending the night together'.  
  
As he was about to knock on the door, Eldarion heard a loud sob and instead of waiting politely, just rushed into the room. Legolas was curled up on the bed crying inordinately for the elf.  
  
"My love," Eldarion cooed and gathered the prince up in his arms and started kissing his head and smoothing back the golden hair. "I am sorry."  
  
"What do you mean?" Legolas asked with a hiccup and quickly brushed his hand over his eyes and dashed the tears away.  
  
"I didn't realise."  
  
When Legolas finally grasped why the man was so apologetic, he burst out into fresh tears and started wailing in incoherent elvish that was so fast that Eldarion could not follow it. "Tinnu!" Legolas howled and buried his head in the covers of the bed.  
  
It seemed that no matter how long ago Tinnu's death was, it was still a very personal thing to Legolas. It had obviously hurt him very much as a child.  
  
Eldarion pulled the prince back into his arms; gratefully Legolas rested his head against the strong chest and listened to the regular and calming sound of his beating heart. A thoughtful expression filled his eyes as he lay there and gradually the crying stopped.  
  
"Is that better?"  
  
Legolas sat up, the look still on his face. He nodded his head like one in a dream then finally he blinked and fixed his eyes back on Eldarion.  
  
"Maethor," Legolas said.  
  
"Pardon me?"  
  
"Maethor," the elf said again.  
  
Eldarion frowned. Nothing in his vocabulary of elvish words connected with that one. "What does it mean?"  
  
"Warrior," Legolas said with a proud smile. "Call your brother Maethor."  
  
Slowly Eldarion's lips curved up and he beamed at his lover. "Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!" he cried and pounced on Legolas, pushing the elf's back onto the bed. From his position over the reclined prince, Eldarion lowered his head and kissed Legolas' nose.  
  
A small giggle that was unlike the royal elf came from his mouth and Legolas' found himself giggling at that noise.  
  
"Not only do you blush like a maiden," Eldarion laughed and devoured the pink lips open partially in advance. "But you laugh like one as well."  
  
Legolas pushed back the hair that was tickling his face and cupped Eldarion's head. "Ah, my love," he murmured to the face above him. "You are the one that fights like one!"  
  
Then deftly, Legolas in one combined movement, pushed Eldarion away slightly and rolled backwards off the end of the bed. He stood slightly breathless at the sight of the man, half scowling and half grinning. Eldarion was so beautiful.  
  
Legolas was still lost in his thoughts as the first pillow struck him around the head. He fell back slightly and glared at Eldarion then turning like a lawyer to his jury, he exclaimed: "Do I need further evidence?" Then leaping on a similar pillow started hitting Eldarion around the head.  
  
Feathers started coming out of the pillows and flying around the room. Legolas had some stuck in his hair and looked like some kind of strange wild man. Eldarion gave as good as he got and once his pillow had turned into just a piece of empty material, tackled the archer's midriff and once again had the advantage as he pinned Legolas to the bed.  
  
"I won't go down with a fight!" Legolas cried with bravado but the act was spoilt slightly when he had to spit a feather out of his mouth.  
  
"Oh really?" a wicked look appeared on Eldarion's face and before the elf could protest, his fingers had crept up Legolas' tunic and were tickling the exposed flesh ruthlessly.  
  
Legolas' legs flailed around helplessly beneath Eldarion and he started shrieking as the man found his most ticklish spot. "Please.... Valar... Eldarion!" he screamed and tried to bat away the prince feebly. "By the Valar you've got cold hands!" Legolas cried.  
  
Eldarion smirked mischievously and carried on attacking the ticklish skin. "I think I've found the chink in your formidable armour," the man said and stopped tickling for an instant to kiss Legolas' lips again. "My dear elf."  
  
The elf prince mock glowered up at his lover. "I hate you," he said.  
  
"So do I!" Eldarion replied cheerfully and continued tickling the elf. Gradually Legolas' shirt was unbuttoned by the sly fingers and was abandoned on the bed. The tickling grew less and less and instead turned into heated kissing.  
  
There was a polite cough and the pair spun around to stare at the door and the rather embarrassed visitor. "I'm sorry," Merlin said blushing profusely at his rumpled friend and the rather guilty looking man that had been previously atop of him. "I should have knocked- but last time you told me off saying that you would hear me ten metres away so there was no"-  
  
Merlin's babbling was cut off by Eldarion's hand. "Do not fret young..." he quickly noticed the uniform of the young boy. "Healer. I will leave if you wish to talk to Legolas."  
  
Legolas made a slight noise of protest as Eldarion got off the bed, but it was muffled by a farewell kiss. "Maethor?"  
  
"Aye," Legolas nodded his head and watched as Eldarion disappeared into the adjoining room. Then he retrieved his shirt and slid it over his head. "I'm sorry Merlin," he said contritely. "I should have heard you coming."  
  
"Its fine," Merlin said earnestly. "I'm happy that you're back with Eldarion."  
  
"Thank you." Legolas patted the bed and Merlin shyly sat next to him, slightly jealous of the healthy glowing look that Eldarion had caused the elf to have on his cheeks.  
  
"So tell me what you've been doing."  
  
"Well to start off, the Head Healer, he's nice, he's called...."  
  
~  
  
"Maethor." Elessar nodded at his wife and bent down and gently brushed his lips over Maethor's forehead.  
  
"Warrior," Arwen said. "Perfect."  
  
~ One day later~  
  
Legolas sat up in his bed with a gasp. Beside him, Eldarion groaned, burying his head under the covers and grumbled a muffle curse at being woken up.  
  
The elf's eyes gleamed as he realised something. Eldarion wouldn't have to be King... Maethor could take the role and his love could slip out unnoticed.  
  
They could be married and- calm down Legolas, he told himself. That was if Eldarion consented to relinquishing the throne of his younger brother. But if it happened, then the man would not have to worry about having to disobey his father's wishes and it wouldn't mean he would have to produce an heir to the throne.  
  
Legolas kneaded his hands into the soft covers and smiled wide.  
  
~ Seven Months Later~  
  
Eldarion whistled a tune that he had heard from the bards one night and swung his legs in a carefree manner over the city walls. From here he had a perfect view of the surrounding countryside. He could see rising out of the horizon the White Mountains, and if he twisted his head, he could see the Mountains of Shadow, dark and ominous.  
  
This was his quiet retreat. The only thing that disturbed him was the occasional call marking the changing of the guard, and then the soft click of metal shod feet on stone. Eldarion had run up here several times when he was a young boy, just to escape it all. His greatest thrill was to stand up on the battlements and feel as the wind toyed with him.  
  
It was exhilarating and slightly scary at the same time. One slip and he would most assuredly plummet to his death on the ground far below. It would be a nasty way to go, Eldarion mused.  
  
The guards normally pulled him down. They had already one person fling themselves from the walls in a desperate attempt to end their lives. Elessar had been shocked to think that people living in his kingdom were so depressed about living that he had tightened security on the walls. Only the highest nobles with authorisation and the guards themselves were allowed up.  
  
Eldarion being the eldest son of the King was let through without a murmur of complaint. The watchmen were used to the lad wandering around and gazing at the stars. He had done it since he was little.  
  
"Eldarion," a soft voice purred in his ears and the man clutched the wall tightly to stop himself falling forward in shock.  
  
Legolas laughed and kissed Eldarion's cheek.  
  
"Legolas!" the man exclaimed and clambering down from the wall embraced the elf tightly. The prince moulded into the responding arms of Legolas with ease. They were such a comfortable place. He had spent many happy nights just laying in peaceful silence in those arms. Strong yet gentle.  
  
The prince had left Minas Tirith one month ago to seek Gimil. Eldarion knew that his lover would take a while. As much as Legolas hated saying it, he missed the quarrelsome dwarf immensely. Now that he knew he was staying in Middle-earth, Legolas thought it was only right to make an appearance.  
  
His stay had been cut short when Gimli had been called away to a nearest mine that had collapsed. All the dwarves in the area were being called in to help. Legolas would have liked to offer his support but not all of the shorter race was as friendly towards elves as Gimli.  
  
"Aye, I'm back. And not a minute too soon, I hope you weren't pining for me so much that you were going to fling yourself off the walls and stop your misery." Legolas' words were amused though there was a slight sadness in his eyes.  
  
"Of course not, why should I be upset? I was going to hurl myself down because I knew that you were returning to me, oh fair one," Eldarion replied.  
  
The easy bantering between them was comfortable and the pair quickly slipped back into a routine of friendly jests and playful digs. The guards chuckled at the antics of the two lovers. Most of the people working in the royal palace had their suspicions about Legolas and Eldarion. They were inseparable and a couple of maids had entered the room and caught the princes kissing passionately.  
  
Legolas took Eldarion's hand and wordlessly led him down the stairs and into the empty gardens. "Eldarion, there is something I wish to tell you, it is of the greatest emergency and please, do not laugh at me when I say it." Legolas' gaze was imploring and the man felt instantly that he would do anything for him.  
  
The prince took a deep breath and Eldarion noticed (though did not say anything about it) that Legolas' hands were shaking with nervousness. "Eldarion, will you bind yourself to me?"  
  
~ 


	19. Upsets

Chapter Nineteen: Upsets  
  
Eldarion's thoughts were running around screaming in his mind that his answer did not come out as subtly as he had hoped. "No!" he cried.  
  
He knew immediately that that was the wrong thing to say for Legolas' fair features became sorrowful and the elf prince staggered back slightly, his mouth open in disappointment. And he struggled to say something but all that came out was a sound that was more of a whimper than a mumble of anything.  
  
"I don't mean it like that," Eldarion tried to grasp the long hands as Legolas continued moving unsteadily backwards in the nearest to a human walk that Eldarion had ever seen the elf use.  
  
Legolas snatched his hands away and kept on moving away from his love. "Mankoi?" [why?] he whispered before turning on his heel and running blindly back through the garden, his tears obscuring his vision. Why was Eldarion being so cruel to him? The man knew all that Legolas had been through just for him! So that he had another chance to be with the one that he loved! And know the prince was throwing away cruelly all Legolas' dreams to bind himself with Eldarion forever!  
  
He stumbled as he ran fleetly over the grass but righted himself and in a swift-moving blur returned to his room.  
  
Once there, Legolas quickly started gathering together all his items. He needed to get away from the stone confines of this city; it was choking him. The air breathed in by so many others was harsh in his lungs. Legolas felt dizzy and clutched the side of the bed to stop him from falling. He stood there, bent over for a couple of minutes before the faintness had passed. Then continued snatching the meagre belongings that he had brought with him.  
  
The prince grabbed his elven cloak and flinging it around his shoulders, he headed towards the door of the room. His exit was bared by a smaller figure.  
  
"Legolas, listen to me," Eldarion said in a gentle voice that also let the archer know that he meant business.  
  
"No Eldarion you cannot stop me!" Legolas cried and found his voice shriller than normal. He stared at the man determinedly. "Now move out the way."  
  
Eldarion shook his head and placed his hands on Legolas' shoulders. "Hear me out, please."  
  
There was something in the prince's tone, maybe it was the way he said 'please', but it made Legolas stop and softening his gaze he nodded. "Continue."  
  
"I said no because I do not wish you to be mortal," Eldarion said. "I would not wish that on one as fair as you." He reached out a hand and ran his thumb down Legolas' cheek.  
  
"Why?" the statement had not worked as well as Eldarion had planned. "Would you not want me if I was to grow old like you?!" Legolas' eyes were angry now.  
  
"Of course I would," Eldarion replied patiently. "I would want you if you shrunk three feet, grew hairy feet and turned into a hobbit."  
  
This did not budge the stony expression on Legolas' face. "It is very easy to lie Eldarion; I think you are doing so," he said icily. "Give me a better reason before I go."  
  
"I do not want you to die a mortal death and forsake all the centauries of the world that you could still live." Eldarion felt his voice tremor slightly and swallowed deeply. This option seemed to work though for the elven prince once again softened.  
  
"Eldarion, sweet Eldarion," Legolas murmured. "Do you not see? I would die from grief if I was an elf. If I was mortal, at least I would be able to die comfortably of old age in the arms of the one that I love. Would you want me to die of a broken heart?"  
  
"No, of course not," Eldarion felt his option swaying. If it was what this beautiful creature wanted then he would.... "But what about when I have to become King!" he said suddenly. He had not thought about that. He would have to wed a Queen and-  
  
"Eldarion, if you do not wish to, you would not have to be the Ruler of Gondor."  
  
The man's face looked blank.  
  
"Your father will live long enough to teach Maethor the ways of Kingship. If you let it, Maethor will take the throne instead of you." Legolas' eyes were brimming with hope.  
  
Eldarion gasped slowly and for a minute, Legolas thought that the man was opposed to the idea, but then he grinned and flinging his arms around the elf, started spinning the tall being around.  
  
Legolas tried to bat away the enthusiastic Eldarion, however he did not succeed and had to wait for him to stop. Then he was set back on the floor, wobbling slightly.  
  
"My love, how do you come up with these brilliant ideas?" Eldarion asked.  
  
The prince smiled modestly. "Oh, it was nothing," he dismissed.  
  
"Of course! Then I am free of obligations and I may marry you!"  
  
"You would?"  
  
"Nothing on this earth can stop me now," Eldarion cried. He leant forward and kissed the peach lips lovingly. "Legolas Greenleaf, you may bind yourself to me."  
  
~ Four months later~  
  
Only Legolas and Eldarion's dearest friends were invited to the ceremony, which they refused to call their "wedding"  
  
"Its our binding ceremony," Legolas insisted without much achievement of convincing people.  
  
Gimli snickered and turning away murmured to Aragorn: "Its a wedding isn't it?"  
  
The King laughed and smiled sheepishly at the elf that was glaring at them fiercely. "Binding ceremony," Legolas said enunciating the words strongly to try and sway his friend's opinions.  
  
"Leave them," Eldarion said placing a hand on Legolas' shoulder. "It doesn't matter."  
  
At this the wood-elf became silent.  
  
The ceremony was held in Ithilien, a land that Legolas had grown to love dearly over the past couple of years. The pair was going to settle in the country. A house was already built on the edge of a forest so that Legolas could walk amongst the trees and on the edge of a wide pasture so that if Eldarion could let his horses roam.  
  
It was a far humbler abode than both had lived in their princely homes, but standing near the shabby farm buildings it was like a peacock among blackbirds. It was furnished richly with tapestries and expensive woods.  
  
The day was as beautiful as could be. It was nearing sunset and between the trees limbs, they could see the pink and orange glow of the setting sun. It tinted the wood golden and caught the sunbeams making the forest seem slightly otherworldly.  
  
The Evenstar tried her best to stop the tears that dripped silently down her cheeks as she said the vows that Legolas and Eldarion had written together. Seeing as she was the only present elf, Legolas had gone to his friend and asked a mighty favour of her.  
  
When Arwen had first heard of the proposed union between the two, she had cried in joy. But now she cried for she feared for Legolas. The prince had assured her wholeheartedly that he was ready for mortality, maybe more so than she was. Still Arwen could not help but mourn.  
  
Gimli was aging rapidly, his beard was slowly turning a dignified grey colour and his movements were slowed by old age. He leant on is axe more and more. By his side was King Elessar clutching to his breast, Maethor. The Ranger too had been delighted that Eldarion had found a way to keep faithful to his love. He looked forward to teaching Maethor the ways of his future.  
  
Eldarion's hair had been combed until it glistened like the morning dew and in his blue eyes was tenderness as he looked at Legolas. He had been clothed in rich velvets and looked every inch the Prince of Gondor.  
  
While Eldarion remained very much grounded in his colours, Legolas in contrast seemed as free as the wind. His golden hair was loose of its braids and the only constraint was a crown of red leaves woven together cleverly with gold wire. To everyone's surprise, Gimli had proved that he was not only a skilled workman but also one with nimble fingers. His arthritis it seemed had not spread to his fingers.  
  
The elf's skin shone with an inner light and his eyes were no longer troubled. He was dressed in silks and satins that wrapped around his body like mist tendrils. They were light colours of greens and silvers.  
  
Arwen sighed and opening her mouth began to recite the vows that she had committed to memory.  
  
"Legolas son of Thranduil and Eldarion son of Aragorn stand before us today wishing to strengthen their love by making a union. A union that has never been seen the likes of before by anyone on this earth. Theirs is a special bond that has exceeded even the call of the Halls of Mandos. By joining together this bond will be strengthened."  
  
Legolas smiled shyly at Eldarion.  
  
Eldarion smiled back.  
  
"Hold forward the rings," Arwen commanded in a soft voice. Both men's closest relatives stepped forward with the rings in hand. For Eldarion it was his father and for Legolas it was Gimli. A choice that none had been prepared for. They all had expected the prince to choose one of the remaining Mirkwood elves.  
  
In his Gimli's small hand was the ring that had belonged to Niphredil. Initially Eldarion had refused such a gift, he was not worthy to wear the ring of a Queen, a Queen who had died defending her child. Then he saw the expression on Legolas' face and had agreed.  
  
Elessar held a small silver band that had studded into it four small rubies. It was fairly simple for a Prince, however Eldarion had always worn it. It was a gift for his twentieth birthday from his parents.  
  
"Legolas take the ring." The elf took the ring from Gimli and noticed that his hand was shaking. "Place it on Eldarion's finger."  
  
He gently slid it onto the man's pale finger, his own slightly clammy with nerves. It fit strangely for the ring was a woman's.  
  
"Now recite after me," Arwen said. "By doing this."  
  
"By doing this."  
  
"I, Legolas Greenleaf am joining myself with Eldarion the son of Gondor. I offer myself freely and eternally. This bond will remain unbroken until the end of the world."  
  
"I am joining myself with Eldarion the son of Gondor. I offer myself freely and eternally. This bond will remain unbroken until the end of the world," Legolas repeated dutifully.  
  
Then the same thing was repeated and Eldarion slid on his finger onto Legolas' long hand.  
  
"The ceremony is finished, you are now bonded under the sight of the Valar. May this amalgamation be true and happy. Now, let us finish it with a kiss." Arwen smiled through her tears as Legolas and Eldarion stepped forward and kissed each other. She looked at her husband and found the man blinking rapidly. Their gaze met and Arwen felt like she had when she first met the young boy, now matured into a King.  
  
There were a couple of murmurs of congratulations as the pair now holding hands walked back through the woods. Gimli was unusually silent and pensive. He knew that this bond with Eldarion would bring Legolas' death. If he was satisfied with the prince, then Gimli would not mind loosing his friend.  
  
Waiting for them in the field was the horses that the visitors had arrived on. Quickly they mounted and with fond farewell cries, had ridden away leaving the couple alone.  
  
Legolas and Eldarion stood together, Eldarion's arms wrapped around Legolas' waist as the elf's keen eyes still traced the movements of the horses long after they had disappeared from the man's ranger. Finally the wood-elf sighed and bending his neck backwards affectionately nuzzled Eldarion with his nose.  
  
"So we are together now, after all we've been through," Eldarion remarked and trailed lingering kisses along Legolas' bared neck.  
  
"Aye," Legolas sighed. A sense of contentment the like of which they had both never felt before, settled over them as they walked into their houses. Together.  
  
~  
  
You may feel happy with this end, however there is only tinsy little chapter left. I call it my coda.  
  
Thanks for reviewing so positively.  
  
Anna. 


	20. Coda

This has been a labour of love and I want to dedicate it to a group of three friends who have been very kind to me recently. This is for Rachel for being always there, Jo for always cheering me up no matter what, and Isabelle for listening to me talking non-stop about fanfiction for months without once complaining. This is for you guys.  
  
Anna.  
  
~  
  
Chapter Twenty: Coda  
  
Every good story has an end. And this particular end was set in a place that most of us spend most of our lives. The bedroom. It was the bedroom of a fine house in Ithilien. The fine house in Ithilien belonged to Legolas Greenleaf the hero of this story; he shared it with his lover Eldarion, the son of the King.  
  
They had created a bond many years ago in the forest that ran alongside their house. The leaves had fallen many times over the very spot where they stood and embraced, concluding the ceremony. Legolas was older than he could remember, but at least Eldarion remembered his age. He was of a grand age, one hundred and four. Only a fraction of the age of the elf that was lying beside him. Still, it made him feel old and weary.  
  
The blood of Numenor granted to him by his father and some of the elvish blood from his mother had kept him sprite and youthful -though he denied it- long after the ages when mortal men become frail and their health declines.  
  
The mother and father he had inherited it from had passed away. Elessar had been the first to go, Eldarion and Legolas stood in the Silent Street as Arwen came out slowly, and her eyes moist and she told him that the King had gone.  
  
The Evenstar then had wandered in Lothlorien where her people had long gone and then finally, she lay down upon the mount where she had met her husband and then she died.  
  
Gimli had gone to his rest before them. Tragically he had been killed in a mining accident. The stone that he loved so much had ironically been his killer. It had taken Legolas many months to recover from the dwarf's death.  
  
Eldarion's blue eyes kept their sparkle and his dark hair had lightened to grey. His skin was covered in more wrinkles, but he had not let his figure go. He had remained slender and tall, not letting old age weigh his shoulders down. His breath now came harder. It rattled around in his lungs slightly before he breathed. His heartbeat was still steady as ever.  
  
Legolas had his head rested against the man's chest as it slowly beat. He had listened to the regular rhythm of his heart every night since they were wed.  
  
Though the prince had become mortal, forsaking the long lives of his people, there was only one visible sign of aging. His beautiful golden hair that Legolas was gifted with, had lightened considerably and now in his gentle features could be discerned an uncanny resemblance with his mother. His hair was the whitest blonde as Niphredil's had been and his dark eyes shone with wisdom and pain intermingled.  
  
His nose was long and proud, his cheekbones high and prominent and his eyelashes were long and black as they occasionally fluttered against his marble skin when he blinked. He could not sleep that night. There was something in the air.  
  
A decay that Legolas could only describe as mortality. He knew that Eldarion was dying. This night was his last on Earth.  
  
Legolas shifted slightly so that his white head was rested straight above the slowly beating organ. His delicate elf ears listened intently.  
  
The beat became slower.  
  
Slower.  
  
Slower.  
  
...  
  
It stopped.  
  
The elf prince felt tears pricking in his eyes and let the small droplets drip down his face and onto Eldarion's unmoving torso. There they trickled down and soaked into his skin.  
  
"My love," Legolas whispered. "Tenna' ento lye omenta" [until next we meet] he told the dead prince and sobbed as he kissed Eldarion's lips.  
  
Then he wrapped one arm around Eldarion's waist and placing his head back on top of his chest, Legolas closed his eyes and sank into a deep slumber.  
  
He did not awaken from that slumber and instead let his mortal heart carry him to the Halls of Mandos.  
  
~  
  
Legolas had never been so impatient in his life as he once again stood by the Gates to the Halls of Mandos.  
  
Behind Námo he could see his mother Niphredil, beaming as she looked at her son proudly. Then next to the elf-woman was Eldarion. Now he looked young and handsome. His hair was once more dark and glossy.  
  
"Legolas Greenleaf, once again you stand before us in judgement," Mandos said and a look of the slightest amusement was on his face.  
  
"You have completed what has been assigned for you in destiny. You have slain Gladrau the dragon as was mentioned previously and you have joined yourself with Eldarion, a noble act. For this I will say only one word to you."  
  
Legolas felt his feet stepping forward as Námo said the final word:  
  
"Enter."  
  
~ 


End file.
